


Forget Me Not

by Rockyroll



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: F/M, Memory Loss, Pining, Reunion, love making, not kinky though, parenting, sex scenes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-10
Updated: 2019-03-10
Packaged: 2019-07-29 03:34:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 10
Words: 21,491
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16255820
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rockyroll/pseuds/Rockyroll
Summary: Jughead returns to Riverdale after nearly a decade. Last he heard, Betty had disappeared after a tragic accident. What begins as a day trip to his old alma mater flips his life upside down in painful and wonderful ways.





	1. Chicken Sandwich

**Author's Note:**

> I'm back at it. Same prompt, very very different story. I got some amazing feedback and I learned a lot and this time the story is barely recognizable, except for the first chapter. I feel like I at least halfway know what I'm doing and I'm excited to share the updated version of this story with ya'll.

Ten years isn’t that long, but Jughead is sure tectonic plates have shifted, several species have evolved since he walked down this hall, past the lockers and the rectangular windows of metal classroom doors. He’s fairly certain he saw a silver hair over his left temple just before he left the city that morning.

The colors in the hallways are sharper than when he was here last, but the smell of the place hasn’t changed. The odor of sweet smelling mold and teenage angst wafts up from the doorways. Or does it come from the square vents above his head?

He’s supposed to meet Archie at their old lunch table outside, but he’s early. He’s only in town for the day, no need for an uncomfortable night on his Dad’s couch or in Archie’s guest-room/basement, so he’d taken the taxi straight here. It’s better this way. There are temptations and ghosts in this town and he doesn't want to linger.

He meanders down the hall peeking in rooms and half-smirking at the new pictures and posters on the wall that somehow resonate the same way the old ones did. Why bother to change them at all? Anti-bullying messages across from ‘this is your brain on drugs’ signs.

His phone chimes in his pocket.

_Running late. 20 min tops. Sry._

Jughead isn’t surprised, Archie has never been prompt and with his demanding wife and their twin boys, it’s a wonder he gets anywhere at all.

Jughead slows his already leisurely stroll to type back.

_No worries, see you and your heathens in a bit._

He pockets hid phone and continues his slow perusal. His literal stroll down memory lane. He’s glad to have some quiet if he’s being honest with himself. And he usually is. Painfully and brutally honest.

Innumerable activities had been planned for the graduating class of 2018. It began with a brunch in which former students are encouraged to bring their families. Then there’s a guided tour of the most recent construction added to the town - a new rec center, a hike and bike trail, a public pool and a children’s museum and science center. Things have changed since Hiram Lodge’s death. All of the stolen real estate for which he’d had dubious intentions were reformed by Veronica and her mother.

It was all to be followed by a formal dinner and dance in the old gymnasium. An exceedingly overwhelming lot of events that truly seemed infantalizing and exhausting. As if fully grown men and women in their late twenties couldn’t occupy themselves for a day. No, their playdates had to be organized for them.

 

If he’d had his own way he’d have a late dinner with his old friend and his pack of red-headed, rowdy cubs, minus the Missus. He’d stop by the old man’s place and then begin the three hour drive back to the city. Or maybe he'd look for traces of her...but it was like a drug. Once he started he wouldn't stop. He'd bang his head against that metaphorical ceiling of discovery and throw away another half a decade of his life like he had before. No, it was better that this visit was short and bittersweet. 

Jughead shook his head in disappointment at himself. Thoughts of her were like weeds. They grew from every direction and no matter what he did he couldn’t root them out. Anyway, Archie would have told him if there had been any developments. He’s startled to find himself at the end of the hall standing before a familiar door. He’s momentarily transported in time into another version of himself. He can still feel the heady combination of warmth and nerves as he stands here, he can almost smell her lilac scented lotion.

He shakes himself out of his past and notices the paint on the door has been touched up, but still reads “The Blue and Gold,” but the new plastic sign on the side of the doorway reads “media studies room 108.” It’s close enough, he supposes.

He puts his hand on the doorknob, but he doesn’t turn it. He’s afraid, suddenly, of the changes that are sure to have taken place inside and he’s possessive of the memories he made in that room. He doesn’t want them tarnished or obscured by new images in the room sure to be filled with unfamiliar desks in an unfamiliar arrangement and technology that didn’t exist back then.

He jams his right hand back in his pocket and takes his left out to check his watch. Still 16 minutes before Archie and his mini-me’s arrive. He should go back to the cafeteria, where brunch is being served for alumna and their families, but he’s really not interested in making nice with his annoying former classmates and their likely even more annoying progeny without Archie as a buffer.

He checks his phone. Fifteen more minutes until Archie’s supposed arrival. He could go in and make nice. Or he could go back to that one place he hates that he want to see.

It’s sadistic, really, to go back to those dark memories. It will serve no purpose other than to validate the dark nights he had here.

Four more doors and then a turn to the left, past the boy’s locker rooms (was he just a boy then? Jughead could barely remember being a child, if he ever was one) and the forgotten door still hides behind the drinking fountain. He remembers sneaking kisses down there, exploring her soft body, letting her explore his. He remembers her crying in his arms as he fought back his own tears when she told him she had made a decision about their future. He remembers holding her at arms length when he was stunned with her revelations. He remembers raising his voice and running back up the steps, leaving her there in her misery while he fought for clarity away from her.

He doesn’t hesitate at this door, just opens it like he belongs there and it gives under his confident push. He jogs down the steps two at a time, flicking on the light as he goes, motor memory kicking in. The lights flicker on and he arrives at the bottom. The space is somehow cleaner than he remembers it, and he realizes that the space is distinctly lacking janitorial supplies or any landscaping or carpentry equipment. Instead, the workbench is clean and holds a few heavy books. The huge porcelain sink is clean aside from a single coffee mug.

His right hand finds its way up to his neck and he blushes in spite of himself. He doesn’t belong here, anymore. It all looks so damn...inhabited. He turns to go up the stairs, but the nook under stairs where he slept on his cheap sleeping bag and his rolled up jacket for his pillow catches his eye. This is why he came here after all, but as he approaches, he realizes this all wrong too. Instead of the dark cramped corner, there is a deep, upholstered cushion with colorful pillows and a trendy, geometric pendant light fixture above it.

He’s an intruder, but there’s a new sensation washing over him as he takes it all in. He feels embarrassingly like a dog on a hunt, for it’s that distinct lilac smell that wafts into the room and he feels the insane urge to lift his nose in the air and find her, hunt her down and beg for home again.

He’s gone insane. He shakes his head to clear it again and rechecks his phone for the time. Five more minutes. He chuckles to himself for being such an idiot. He should be glad the space is clearly being used by somebody. Somebody who has a knack for making the space their own. He takes one final look around the old cellar and then hops back up the steps, two at a time like always.

At the landing, he reaches for the light fixture to turn it off and open the door simultaneously, but he’s met with an unmovable door in the heavy steel door. He flicks the light back on, and tries with both hands, wiggling the knob and slamming his shoulder into the door, but it doesn’t budge.

“Well, this is just fantastic,” he murmurs allowed to himself. He checks his phone, “Fan-fucking-tastic” he repeats as he moves his phone around trying to catch a signal. He switches over to WiFi, only to find that the school, which has a strict policy on phones, has only one network and it’s password protected.

He gives the door a solid kick and listens outside for any footsteps, but hears nothing.

Groaning to himself as he walks slowly back down down the stairs, he’s thankful that he at least he brought his iPad with him and can likely write, if nothing else, until he is rescued. After all, he tells himself after a brief moment of panic, this place is someone's hideaway and they’ll present themselves eventually.

He settles himself at the workspace and is delighted to find that someone has run an extension cord to the table and he easily plugs himself in.

He’s late for a deadline, he owes his editor five thousand words by the end of this week. He’s a coward, he knows, but he’s sort of relieved at being locked in. He was anxious about seeing the gang and the faces of people who knew just too much about his past.

One thousand words later, his stomach complains and he sits up straight, relishing in the pops that ignite down his back. He checks his watch and his phone (just in case) again. He’s an hour late to meet Archie, and he wonders how long Archie will wait before he begins to go looking for him.

In the meantime, Jughead snoops under the new curtain that surrounds the old sink and finds a mini fridge, complete with organized little meals. He takes out a clear take out box that’s marked “chicken wrap, Monday.” He sniffs. Fresh.

Taking a large bite, he realizes that as today is Friday, the rightful owner of this ridiculously healthy (but surprisingly tasty) wrap may not be back until the weekend. At least there’s a limit to his imprisonment. Hey, he was hoping for a writer’s retreat anyway. He surprised himself, these days, in his ability to see the silver lining.

As he starts in on Tuesday’s chicken burger, he swivels in the bar stool to look around the room. The large cast iron sink had been resealed and a fresh curtain wrapped around the bottom. A wall has been constructed around the toilet that once simply sat in the corner, embarrassing the rest of the room. The walls had been painted an off white and spotlights on tracks have been added around each of the walls.

He returned to the other half of the chicken burger, which had been carefully cut in half. The loopy, but neat handwriting on the box caught his eye. His jaw locked, food still half chewed in his mouth, as he noted the curly cue at the top of the ‘C’ and then ‘hicken’ is stretched across the box to very neatly line up with ‘Burger’ underneath. The letters carefully adjusted as if she wrote them in a word box in the Blue & Gold. He very nearly drops the rest of the burger, which tastes like dust in his mouth suddenly. He places the food carefully back in its box and getting of the stool, takes three heavy steps backward until he’s standing in the middle of the room. His hands are in his hair and his eyes are clenched closed and he’s wondering if this is all just a bad dream or a fantasy or if he has truly and completely lost his shit.

“Great, Jughead,” he murmurs to himself, “let’s jump to impossible conclusions because of a fucking label on your sandwich,” He just needs to disprove the zany idea that just took root in his head. He looks around the space for any evidence that it’s her. Not her, obviously.

The room is tidy, but there are plenty of tidy people in the world. There are peonies on the pillows and matching fabric on the curtains around the bottom of the sink. It’s a Cooper thing, sure, but not necessarily a Betty thing. There’s the writing on the containers, but even that’s weak, and he knows it. It’s not proof that she’s been here, but there’s no proof that she hasn’t. Great, he’s been isolated from the world for an hour and half and he’s completely lost it.

His eyes go back to the pillows under the stairs. He wants to nestle into those cushions as if he was her. Curl up with Hamlet or Siddhartha, but then he remembers her face the last time he saw her. So pale, yet angelic. Her hair matted in blood, her eyes were locked on his. She was talking to him, begging him for something, but he couldn’t hear. He had lost consciousness and he had failed her.

He’s so immersed in the memory and self-flagellation that he doesn’t hear the door open above him. The newcomer is halfway down the steps when Jughead realizes he has company.


	2. For the Love of Sandwiches

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Confrontation and confusion...

The light over the stairs creates a sizzling silhouette. She’s an angel descending. Those delicate, yet sharp shoulders, golden curls bouncing and shifting as she glided down to him. Her sleeves are open past the elbow and they remind him of wings.

 

Did he die? Did he fall down the stairs? Or is he asleep? Is she alive and well in front of him or have they been reunited in the beyond? When she arrives at the bottom of the stairs, she walks directly up to him. She studies his face and her mouth opens. She’s going to say something...but then she closes it again when her eyes drop to the bench behind him. And she stops looking ethereal. She looks...pissed.

 

“You ate my sandwich,” she says. It doesn’t make sense. She’s here. She’s actually really and truly in front of him and she’s talking about a sandwich?

“So this is a dream?” he responds. Betty squints in disbelief.

“Is that your excuse for eating a stranger’s food? Sleep eating?” Her chin is up and her arms are crossed.

“Stranger? Sleep eating?” Jughead’s mouth is turned down and then he’s laughing. “Sleep eating? Did my subconscious just make up a disorder… of course I would dream about you and eating…But this feels real...one of those dreams that you know can’t be real, but feels so….tangible?” He’s looking at her with that conspiratorial grin and this is when her smile would break...but instead her eyebrows furrow and her lip disappears between her teeth. She’s worried.

“Sir, I assure you, you are not sleeping. Are you...okay?”

“Right, you know usually when I dream about you, I can’t touch you. Did you know that? I reach out, but you slip away. That’s how I’ll know, Betts.”

“Betts? That’s not...” she has half a second to look alarmed before Jughead reaches for her, his long fingers enveloping her waist and he pulls her flat against his chest. Her hands instinctively grab his shoulders and her head turns to make way for his chin. “I can touch you this time. God, I hope I never wake up. Or maybe I’m dead. Maybe this is heaven...you smell both the same and different. Wait. Should I be able to smell you?” Jughead abruptly takes a step back, but she’s been leaning on him and she loses her balance. His arms go out to catch her and they’re looking into each other’s eyes. For second or minutes or…

“You really shouldn’t be here,” she insists.

“Umm. Yeah, okay,” he frowns. She arches her eyebrow at him expectantly. He turns to go, but whips back around again.

“So, but...you’re not...um. I didn’t catch your name.”

“It’s Beth.”

“Beth? That’s not...no.”

“I’m pretty sure I know my own name.”

“Do you, though?”

Her only response was a folding of her arms and a sassy shake of her ponytail.

“Right, well…” Jughead dug into his deep pocket for his wallet. “Here. This is for the sandwich,” he hands her a twenty, “and this,” he holds his business card in the air before holding it out to her, “is my number.”

“And I would want that...why?”

“I don’t know, Betts. I don’t know.”

He looks at her again and he wants to say more. Anything, really, to keep them together here, to get her to acknowledge him. He shakes his head at himself and then takes the steps back up two at a time, where a brick has a appeared to keep the door ajar.

She didn’t remember him, he mused, and maybe that was for the best. Perhaps this was the universe making it clear once again that he had no business participating in Betty’s life. Especially after what had happened last time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So we're going in a new direction...I hope you like it. I take requests, just write them below.


	3. Eat and Run

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jughead learns some disturbing news.

Jughead caught up with Archie and sons outside at the outdoor eating area nearly an hour later than he had been expected.

“What the hell, man?” Archie greeted, his phone in his hand. Jughead’s pocket rang. He ignored it since the caller was in front of him.

“I think that's my line, Arch.” Jughead leaned toward his friend, his fists stuffed deep into his pockets.

“What are you talking…” and then Archie caught sight of someone behind Jughead “...oh. Her.”

Jughead turned around to see Betty emerging from the same set of doors. She approached a group of women, smiling.

“Yeah. Her.”

Archie grimaced as he rubbed his neck in thought. “Look. It’s complicated. I didn’t tell you, because, well, she’s not really her. She’s not Betty.”

“But don’t you think I had the right to know?”

“I wanted to, really. It’s super awkward. I mean she’s family. Kind of, and Cheryl would have been fucking pissed if she found out that I had told you.”

“Cool. Nice to where your loyalties lie. The cat’s out of the bag now, can you at least tell me when she woke up? Where has she been the whole time, man? I searched every hospital. No one would tell me anything…” Jughead tore away from the conversation as he tore the hat off his head. He kneaded it furiously as he tried to keep himself from openly weeping or punching Archie in the face.

Archie’s voice came from behind him.

“They sent her to the Sisters of Quiet Mercy, like they did with Polly.  She was gone for a long time and then she came back and she was different. She was...this Beth person. She didn’t remember anyone else. Not even her own family, but she insisted that everyone should call her Beth. Freaky, man.”

Jughead turned back around, searching his friend’s face. “And?”

“And? What?”

“You’re doing that thing, that thing where you go all pink and you can’t keep eye contact. What else is there?”

Archie sighed deeply, he was in, Jughead thought celebratorily. The feeling lasted less than five seconds. “She has a kid.”

“A what now?”

“A child. When she came back, she came back with a little kid. He’s about nine now. He’s over there.”

Jughead turned to look in the direction he’d been avoiding since he caught sight of her on the lawn. She was in the same group of women, some of whom had small children. They were all facing away from Archie and Jughead, watching a group of children play Red Rover. Only three of the children looked old enough to be around nine and one was a girl.

Of the boys, one had bright red hair and pale skin, like the girl. The other had a mop of sandy brown hair. He had a newsboy cap on his wavy hair and an overcrowded, toothy smile on his tanned, but freckle-less face.

“Red Rover, Red Rover, Let Ethan come over.” The little boy Jughead suspected was the most likely to be Betty’s son perked up. He took off at a run and broke through the arms of the other children, but not before taking the two red-headed boys down, which Jughead recognized as six-year old Archie’s twins, down with him. Soon it was a dogpile. Children laughing and screaming and their mothers and fathers running in to manage it all.

Jughead swallowed forcefully. Where there was a child, there was a father. It was easy to imagine the adorable, happy kid as his own. Right down to the cheeky grin and the mess of hair under his hat, he very well could be. He even should be, Jughead thought, but he’d lost the chance to be a father to Betty’s child ten years ago.

“Who’s the father?” Jughead heard himself asking in a stale voice, as if he was asking while also swallowing grains of sand.

“And you tell me _I’m_ dense. It’s _you_ , Jug. You idiot.”

“No, Betty got an abortion and then we didn’t...we weren’t ever together again, after that.”

“What? I didn’t know, but I mean. The timing lines up. She would have had to sleep wi-” Archie backed up, his hands open in front of him in surrender when Jughead turned on him, “I mean, it’s just. His birthday is like eight months after you left. The timing lines up, man.”

Rather than walking across the party and demanding answers from everyone, Jughead slunk into the shadows as best he could given the bright summer sun at noon. Archie excused himself to be social or some shit and Jughead wondered if he had changed since high school at all. Here he was alone, standing on the sidelines, observing everything and participating in nothing.

He watched Betty talk to many faces he recognized. Midge had probably doubled in weight, but she still looked about the same. Chuck was just as fit as he was ten years ago, but was clearly losing his hair. In spite of himself, he kind of felt bad for the guy.  Reggie was wearing a sleek suit and sunglasses. He walked with confidence, but not the same swagger as his former self.

Jughead was not an oblivious man. He could see the side-eye his former peers were giving him, but it didn’t affect him, at least not directly. They were looking from him to Betty and back and then talking quietly amongst themselves. He wondered how much they knew. How much Betty knew. How much he would know if he bothered to keep up with anyone who lived here besides Archie and FP. Shit, what if FP knew?

“You look like you could use one of these,” came a light, feminine voice from behind him. The even tone, the soothing phrasing. Veronica sounded almost exactly like her mother lately. He turned and raised his eyebrow at the honey-colored beverage on the rocks.

“Roni, you know I don’t…”

“I know, I know. That’s why _this one_ is for me and this one is for you. Ginger Ale.”

“Thanks. Did you know…” Jughead motioned with his plastic cup.

“I didn’t know until I caught my flight this morning. I had the pleasure of sitting two seats away from Dilton Doiley.” Veronica shivered dramatically. “God, does he love gossip. Rumor is that’s your kid over there...but I know she got an abortion. I mean, I was with her afterward. I paid the bill!”

“Yeah, I know. I can see how everyone would think that, he looks like me doesn’t he?”

“Yeah, he really does. Do you think she lied to us? Or that it didn’t take or…”

“God, I have no idea.”

“What are you gonna do?”

“She doesn’t remember me. Why is she even here if she can’t remember?”

“Drama really does follow you around, Juggiekins. I haven’t spoken to her since the whole Archie Debacle just before the, you know..”

“Yeah. I know. You going to talk to her?”

Veronica furrowed her brow in thought and then shook her loose tendrils behind her shoulders. “Yes, yes I am.” Veronica was fearless. Something Jughead always envied about his friend.

Jughead pulled himself away from the trees and made painfully forced himself to make small talk with a few teachers. A few minutes later he ventured a glance over at Veronica and Betty. Veronica looking directly at him and pointed, Betty looked confused. He looked away quickly, but not before they noticed him. When he looked back a second later they were walking purposefully toward him. He couldn’t help but mouth “oh shit” as they descended upon him.

“Hello again,” she said.

“Hi. Hello.” Jughead responded. _Idiot_. Veronica frowned away her smile before it bubbled up.

“Are you aware that there’s some kind of crazy rumor about us?”

“I have been recently aprised, yes.”

“Well, I assume I’m the only one here with a severe case of amnesia, so can you substantiate them or not? I’d like to get to the bottom of this now, if possible.”

“Uh, well...can we go somewhere more private to talk?” Betty looked affronted at the suggestion.

“No, no we can not. You’re a stranger and I’m here with my son. I can’t just take off and have a conversation with you.”

“Right, of course. Um.. so. Here then?”

“Yes. Here.”

“Well, I _was_ your highschool boyfriend and you _did_ get pregnant while we were together, but you got an abortion and then we broke up, so as far as I know...”

Betty pursed her lips before continuing for him, “As far as you, you didn’t abandon your pregnant girlfriend to raise your child.”

“I would never, ever…”

“What, abandon me?”

“I mean not…”

“So you only stuck around to make sure I got rid of the baby and then you bounced.”

“You seem pretty pissed for someone who doesn’t even remember me.”

Betty took a step back, suddenly aware of how she was encroaching on his space and that she had forced him to take several steps back from his original position. She crossed and uncrossed her arms as she took control of her emotions. It was an uncanny feeling to be able to read her body language so clearly. He didn’t know what she was thinking, exactly, but he could easily watch the roller coaster ride of emotions through the tightness in her shoulders and facial expressions. When she’d gathered herself, she spoke again.

“They tell me your name is Jughead.”

“Yeah, that’s what I go by.”

“The card you gave me said just ‘F. Jones’.” she pointed out.

“It’s a nickname.” his response was curt. It was _his_ job to do the interrogating, not the other way around. “Look, I answered your questions, clearly you’re a busy mom. I wish...I wish that I could give you more answers, but I’m not the guy you’re looking for.” Jughead turned to go. He’d had enough ‘reunion’ to last him a lifetime.

“Actually, I think you are.”

Jughead froze in his spot. “Oh. My. God.” Veronica spoke for the first time during the exchange.

“This. Is. Riveting.” Jughead rolled his eyes. He hadn’t realized that Kevin had arrived as well. It was almost like old times. He turned to give Veronica and Kevin his best 'beat it' but was interrupted by a much too gregarious voice for the mood of the conversation.

“Hey Jug, I’ve been looking for you,” bellowed Archie from five feet away.

“Excellent. The whole gang.” Jughead murmured to himself. He turned around, willing himself to ignore everyone else since Betty had insisted on doing this out in the open. “What do you mean? I am...what?”

Betty took a breath, “Maybe we should take this somewhere private,” she looked around pointedly at the faces of their former friends pointedly.

“A little late for that now,” Jughead said between gritted teeth.

“Fine. After the accident, when I went to the hospital. They did a lot of tests. The abortion was successful, but there was another embryo. It would have been twins and one survived.”

“You’re saying…”

“Yes, you’re his biological father. Where have you been for the last nine years?”

Jughead didn’t respond. Her eyes were flashing with familiar anger and he did what he always did when confronted with an angry Cooper woman and a shocking truth. Behind him he caught her voice, “Great. Run away again.”


	4. Pizza and other things

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jughead gets some perspective on fatherhood.

Jughead isn’t sure what took up the last three hours of his life, but somehow he’s in front of Archie’s parents’ old house. Maybe it’s one of the only places that ever really felt like home. Not because of Betty or Archie, but because of Fred. He glances at the house next door. It looks bleak, and it’s not just because there are no lights on inside or cars in the driveway. There’s a For Sale sign in front of bushes. He sighs deeply before knocking on the Andrew’s door, which looks rather lived-in in comparison to the old Cooper place.  

“Jug,” Fred’s hairline is even further back than the last time he’s seen him, but his smile is just as brilliant. Maybe more, the creases in his eyes creating a more elaborate frame for his absolute delight in seeing a man who he thinks of like a son. “Get in here.”

It feels good. More than good. The house is messy, bordering on decrepit, actually, but Fred’s strong arm on Jughead’s shoulder overshadows everything. Fred doesn’t ask what he’s doing there, where he’s been or why he’s picked this moment to arrive back in Fred’s life without so much as a phone call. There are no guilt trips, no judgement and no awkward indifference.

“Let me make you a fresh pot of coffee. Sit down, sit down,” Fred demands.

Jughead clears a chair and a spot for himself at the island. Damn, the place has really gone down hill. Fred shuffles around the kitchen, wincing with each step as he maneuvers around the kitchen, around the counters filled with clutter and the boxes on the floor.

“Fred,” Jughead gets up, concerned. “Sit down. I think I still know my way around.” Fred doesn’t argue. He gingerly takes the seat Jughead had made with a sigh.

“I’ve been meaning to clean up,” Fred gestures vaguely around him, “I just…” he drops off and his face crumples for a minute before he returns Jughead’s gaze with an apologetic smile. Jughead is instantly pissed at Archie for not coming around more, but then realizes how much he’s projecting. After all that Fred has done for him, he hasn’t been around either. He’s beginning to regret the last several years.

Jughead skips the reunion that evening. He brushes of any and all texts from his former classmates and tell everyone he already went home. Instead, he asks Fred to teach him how to fix thing around the house. They both pretend that it’s not that Fred needs the help, but that Jughead may have his own house one day and may need to know these things.

They work for hours and order a pizza for dinner. Jughead has an 11pm flight, so he has time before he needs to call a cab back to bring him to the tiny Greendale airport.

“We going to talk about it?” Fred asked as he took he dropped a glass of water in front of Jughead.

“Wasn’t planning on it,” Jughead responds and fills his mouth with an overly large bite of pizza.

“The child. Ethan. Is he yours?” Fred responds, avoiding Jughead’s avoidance.

Jughead sighed before putting his pizza down and reaching for his glass. He swallows and sips before finally answering, “You knew?”

“Not exactly. I’ve seen the kid around town. He’s the image of you, son.”

 _Damnit, Fred_ Jughead thought, didn’t he have any idea how it melted Jughead’s heart when he called him that. And the relevance to this particular conversation. Not much needed to be said. Here Fred was, caring for a grown man as if he was flesh and blood, the way he always had, and Jughead had his own son out there who had nobody. He wondered what was worse, having a shit father or no father at all.

“Stop it,” Fred said. “Whatever mental lashing you’re giving yourself right now, pull your head out of your ass.” Jughead sat up, at attention. He wasn’t used to this kind of straight talk coming from such a soft spoken man. Fred only spoke like this when he was serious - like the time He and Archie were caught smoking pot behind the garage or when Jughead brought home is one and only "C" in English in 8th grade. “Your issues take a backseat now. You’re a father, the only thing that matters is that kid. I get that you didn’t know about him before, but there’s no changing the past. All you’ve got now is the present and the future.”

Jughead nodded along as Fred spoke. “You’re right. You’re right,” he murmured more to himself than in direct response.

“How long until your flight?” Fred asked.

“I need to leave in about an hour to make it in time.”

“That’s long enough for you to get over there and talk to her for a few minutes.”

“I don’t know where she lives or...I mean, I can’t just show up.”

“That’s what a father does, Jug. He shows up.” Fred slid a piece of paper across the table. Inside was an address.

 

Apartment 205E. It seemed unnatural to think of Betty living in an apartment. It really seemed all wrong. She should be living in a home with a yard. A garden in the back and a garage for her tinkering. Fred’s words came back to him. This isn’t about him. It’s not even about Betty. It’s about his kid. Their kid. Ethan. _He_ deserved a house with a yard.

Jughead asked the Taxi to stick around and stuffed a twenty into the driver's palm. It was late, nearly ten at night and he doubted Betty would be happy to see him, but fathers showed up. Better late than never. And a whole of other cliches that pushed him up the first set of stairs. And then the second. After the third he paused for a breath. Not having an elevator to the third floor was just inhumane.

The front door looked like the rest, but there was a child-sized bike leaning on it’s kickstand out front, the back tire flat, and a yellow notice stuck to it.

“Please refrain from leaving clutter outside of doorways. We appreciate your cooperation. - Apartment Management”

Jughead rolled his eyes at the not and at the establishment in general. He lifted his hand to knock, but her voice came to him from the open window and he froze.

“Yeah, he’s asleep. I don’t think he noticed him. Thank God. I don’t know how I would explain all of this to him...No, I don’t think he needs a father in his life. He has me and you and...well, Polly comes around sometimes. We’ve gotten this far on our own...Yeah, I know, it’s not ideal. We’re going to need a two bedroom sometime soon. It’s just, not in the budget just yet. Maybe next year...I still have those hospital bills...Mom, I love you, but Ethan is my son and I can take care of him. I’ve got this, okay? I can’t believe you, of all people...Yeah, you too. Okay. Bye.”

It was now or never. At least the kid wasn’t awake, so there would be no awkward meetings yet, though a part of him was disappointed that he would have to leave the state, take off of work and it could possibly be a month before he formally interacted with his son. He may have waited nine and a half years to meet his son, but suddenly a few weeks sounded like an eternity. He knocked before his nerves got the better of him. He heard a gasp and some shuffling through the window as she approached.

“Who-who is it?”

“It’s Jughead.”

“Jughead? Oh! Right, you. What do you want?” She spoke through the door.

“Um, just to talk, can you open the door?”

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea. Why are you here so late?”

“Look, I need to leave to catch my flight in about fifteen minutes and-”

“You’re leaving again?” she interrupted him. Her voice sounded more sad than angry.

“I...Well, I have a flight to catch, but that’s what I wanted to talk to you about. Maybe I could come back. I didn’t know about Ethan before and now that I do. I...Well...if it’s okay with you, I’d like to be part of his life.” Betty gasped and he heard her shuffle away from the door. “Look, I just want to help. I’ll leave it up to you, Betts.”

“Stop calling me that,” Betty said. Jughead hung his head, it wasn’t working and he felt like an idiot for getting his hopes up. “I have your card, Jughead. I’ll-I’ll think about, okay?”

“Yeah, okay.” Jughead turned to go, his hands pushing into his pockets. He felt his wallet and remembered the conversation, the bike. “Hey, I’m putting something under your mat. Use it however you want, seriously. Just take what you need.” He took a step back. His heart ached with every step. There were feelings he couldn’t even identify, let alone speak aloud, but she wasn’t ready to hear them and he wasn’t ready to say them. It would have to wait. “Take care, Betts.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See? We're going somewhere else with this....not at all like the old one, I know. I hope ya'll like it anyway. Drop me a note. Is this not your cup of tea? Too milky and sweet? Want something more bitter? I want to know. Place an order.


	5. Crying and Corndogs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Betty reaches out after the reunion!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is dedicated to Sophie. My sweet baby sister who is gone way too soon. I love you.

Chapter 5: Crying and Corndogs

Stepping into his loft at two in the morning, Jughead feels as if he’s just woke from a fever dream. The only real evidence that Betty is alive and well, but void of her memories, and that he has a son is that there is an empty spot in his wallet where his credit card once was.

Over the next week and half, Jughead uses the little information about Betty, ‘Beth’, Cooper to dig a little more. His research is underhanded, but he can’t help himself when it comes to her. Plus, he’s masochistic and loves to torture himself with guilt.

She has a janitorial job at Riverdale High School and her salary is shit. It’s barely enough to cover rent, he has no idea how she pays for anything else. He’s relieved when he checks his bank statements. There are charges for groceries, an auto shop and for office supplies totaling around $150. He makes sure there’s plenty of money available and he hopes she keeps buying things. It makes him feel a little less like shit. Like he’s redeeming himself in some small way.

It’s the second Wednesday after the reunion and Jughead is learning about the developmental milestones of nine year olds and is filling his cart with knee pads, shin gaurds, a new helmet (is a mouth guard too much?” when his phone alerts him to a text.

It’s not a phone number he recognizes, but he knows who it is.

 _I told him about you. He wants to meet you._ Jughead’s arms go numb as he stumbles through a quick response.

 _Ys, absoluteyh, i wnat that too._ He sends before spell checking. Damnit. _I mean Yes, absolutely, I want to meet him too. I’m not illiterate. I promise._

 _Yeah, I read some of your articles. I should think not. Can you come this weekend?_ She responds.

 _Yes, I can be there Friday around 7. I’ll take you both to dinner?_ He responds quickly. Shit, that sounds like a date. Maybe that _is_ what he’s asking. Dots appear as she types and deletes, types and deletes.

 _Sure, why not._ Jughead smirks in his excitement and triumph.

_Nice. See you then. Night Betts._

_It’s Beth. Goodnight Jughead._ Jughead sighs. It’s not a ‘Juggie’ or even a ‘Jug’ but it’s a start. He falls asleep that night daydreaming about Betty waking up, remembering him, falling into his arms and sucking on his bottom lip the way she used to.

When he wakes up in the morning, it’s Thursday and he knows what he wants to do. He’s moving home.

He’s done enough work for the week - he has to finish at least six articles a week and he’s written ten. It’s an online publication, so he doesn’t need to be anywhere in particular to do his job. As long as he can call into meetings a few times a week and be available to message from his boss during work hours, then he’s set.

He spends the day packing his apartment and making calls to organize his move. By the end of the day, he’s ready to leave the place he’s rested in head for the past several years. He’s surprised at how little he’s accumulated, how small of a mark his life has. It’s even more proof that he’s not really living here at all. It’s like his life has been on hold since he left. It’s time to start living again.

Jughead pulls up to Betty’s apartment at 6:45. He’s early, so he walks around the side of the building for a smoke. He doesn’t smoke often, just an American Spirit now and again, but when he rounds the corner he quickly pockets his pack and lighter. Ethan is standing between two buildings, tossing a tennis ball at a wall and waiting for it to bounce back to him.

Jughead stops abruptly, wondering if it’s too late to retreat, but Ethan sees the movement and turns to face him.

Jughead knew fear. The fear of rejection when he leaned into Betty and kissed her for the first time, the fear of abandonment the morning he woke up to find his mother gone and when his father was arrested, and the fear of loss when he was holding Betty’s bleeding body in his arms the last time he’s seen her. But this was something new. It was a fear of failure, mixed with every other kind of fear he’d ever felt.

“Are you my dad?” Ethan spoke first. Jughead forgot how to breath for a moment. Do not fuck this up, do not fuck this up. What would Fred do?

Jughead took a few steps toward Ethan. “Yeah, you’re my son. I’m...I’m whoever you want me to be.”

“My mom said you didn’t know about me before.”

“That’s true. I just found out about two weeks ago. I would never have stayed away so long if I knew.”

“Do you promise?”

“I promise.”

“Well. Now what?”

“That’s up to you and your mom, s- Ethan.”

“Well, if it’s up to me, I want you to be my dad. You know, like a real dad.”

“A real dad, huh?” Jughead’s nerves kicked back up. What the hell did a real dad do? It seemed like a stupid question to ask a nine-year old kid who didn’t have much experience in that department.

“Ethan, it’s time to - oh. You’re early.” Betty came up behind them. “I guess you two have met?”

“Yeah, Dad and I met. Let’s go have dinner mom.” Ethan pocketed his ball and came toward them. He grabbed Jughead’s hand in one hand and Betty’s in the other. “Man, I’m hungry. What kind of car do you drive, Dad? Can we roll down the windows? Can I choose the radio station? Oh, do you have one of those satellite radios? Can we get a dog?”

“Umm.” Jughead said, but thankfully he didn’t have to answer any of the questions, since Ethan seemed to speak over himself all the way to the pizza shop. Betty, however, was eerily silent throughout the dinner. Jughead answered every question that Ethan threw at him that he would stay quiet enough to listen to. Mostly, that was while Ethan was eating his pizza, thankfully quiet during those fifteen minutes.

“So what kind of job do you have,” Ethan asked.

“I’m a writer for an online publication.”

“Oh, mom says that’s all bullshit propaganda”

“Ethan!” Betty chides.

“Sorry. Where do you live?”

“I was living in Columbus, Ohio, but I just sublet my apartment, so I can move back here.” Jughead responded, purposely not to look at Betty, though he saw her sit up straighter in his peripheral vision.

“So you can live closer to me and mom?”

“Yes, Ethan, that’s exactly why. I can do my job from anywhere and I want to be closer to you.”

“I want that too, Dad. Hey, I have a baseball game tomorrow. Do you want to come?”

“I’d lo-”

“I don’t think Jughead can make it honey,” Betty interrupted him. “Why don’t you go play in the arcade for a little while I talk to him, okay?” She pulled her wallet out from her purse and unzipped the side pocket. Realizing what she was doing, Jughead pulled out a five dollar bill first.

“Get quarters from the change machine, okay Ethan?” Jughead said.

“Okay dad.”

As soon as he was out of earshot, Betty turned toward Jughead with a fierce look in her eye. “What the hell are you doing.”

“What are you talking about? I came to meet my son...I don’t-”

“Just because you have money you can’t take him away from me. Okay, he’s- he’s all I have. Do you understand? I-please, please.”

“Betty, Betty.”

“It’s Beth,” She whisper-yelled. Jughead’s nostrils flared in frustration.

“Fine, Beth. I have no intention of taking him from you. I just want to help. You and him, okay? I’m moving in with Fred Andrews. He can use the help and I need a place to live.”

“This is happening too quickly. I appreciate the credit card, that you came down this weekend, I just… I need a little time. I can’t believe he’s adjusting so quickly. I didn’t think...”

Jughead sat back, trying not feel rejected, not to feel shattered. “Yeah. Okay. Whatever you need Be- Beth. I’m going to go play video games with my son, alright?”

Betty nodded, her eyes focused on her half eaten slice.

Jughead dropped them off an hour and a half later. He and Ethan had bonded again over PacMan and Mortal Kombat.

“Mom, can Jughead have dinner with us tomorrow night?” Ethan asked as Jughead pulled into the apartment complex.

“Umm. Jughead’s probably going to be too busy.”

“Nope, not busy,” Jughead insisted.

“Pleeeeaase?” Ethan begged.

“Yeah,” Betty responded breathlessly, “I hope you like corndogs, Jughead, it’s about all we’ve got right now.”

“Love corndogs,” Jughead responded.

“Me too, I think I get that from you Dad.” Ethan smiled.

“Alright, time to get to bed, Ethan,” Betty huffed.

On Saturday, Jughead spend the next morning helping Fred shuffle and move things around. He took a load of stuff to the dump and on his way back he saw that there were balloons and cars in front of the old Cooper house. A sign read, “Open House.”

Jughead signed the sheet of paper on the entryway table. The house had been staged with modern stuff, but the furniture was placed in the same way Alice had had it all those years ago. He half listened to a real estate agent as she spoke to some potential buyers. “Well,” she said, “the house has been on the market for three years now. The sellers are eager to sell. They’ve already reduced the price to nearly half of what it was.”

“I heard there was murder here. Is that why-” a man asked in the crowd. The agent’s lips went white when she pursed them tightly in response and then she interrupted him.

“No, sir. That is not what happened.” It was clear that the woman had fielded these questions before.

Jughead rolls his eyes. Rumors are infectious in towns like Riverdale. He makes his way up the stairs, trailing his hands over the places where the family photos used to be kept. Betty’s room has been painted a neutral tan with white trim. Her bed and vanity have been replaced with something modern and Swedish, but there are still marks on her window sill from where the ladder used to be. There’s still a few chips on the baseboard where Betty’s bed frame used to hit when she lost her inhibitions for him.

The rest of the rooms are painted similarly, but nothing has been done structurally to change the house and he’s relieved at that. Downstairs, the crowd has dispersed and the real estate agent is sitting at the table, rubbing her temples.

“Oh!” She looks up when he clears his throat, “I didn’t realize anyone was still here.”

“What’s the current asking price?” He says, and the real estate agent’s eyes and mouth widen for a moment before she recovers from her shock and stand up so quickly that her chair nearly tips over.

“Well, sir,” she begins. “The starting price was $490, but it’s been reduced to $320. The seller, I believe, is firm.”

Jughead pulls out his checkbook. “I’ll take it for $250. And I’ll pay cash. This should cover the deposit. He hands her a check for $50,000. The sellers pay for the title exchange and the real estate fees.”

“Wha-Are you su- Yes. Done. I’ll get the paper’s set up for you right away, Mr…”

“Jones, but I want to remain anonymous to the sellers. If they find out, the deal is off.”

“Absolutely, I’ll process the papers right over the next forty-eight hours.” Jughead spends the next hour and half signing the appropriate papers and by the time he needs to get back to get ready for dinner with Betty and Ethan, he’s very nearly bought a house.

Jughead texts Betty before he leaves and asks if he can bring anything, but he doesn’t get a response. He stops at a store to buy some flowers for Betty and a board game for Ethan. He settles on Backgammon - it’s quick enough to play and figures it’s classic enough.

Jughead feels his heart beating rapidly as he knocks on their door. He’s pretty sure it’s only half because of the three flights of stairs, but he thinks about Ethan’s quick acceptance of him and he calms a little and smiles. He’s excited to see Betty and he’s just as excited to see Ethan. He’s never felt that way with anyone besides her.

When Betty answers the door, however, his smile disappears. Betty’s face is blotchy and red. Her hair is down and she doesn’t make eye contact with him.

“I’m sorry, I should have called or texted. I don’t think we can do dinner tonight.”

“What happened?”

“It’s nothing...Nothing.”

“Bet-Beth. I really want to help. Please, let me help.” Betty hesitates, “Also, I really had my hopes up for corndogs. Don’t let me down.” Betty sighs and moves aside.

“Where’s Ethan?”

“He’s in the bedroom. It’s been...We both had a bad day,” she said. Her arms were folded across her chest. Jughead reached out a hand on her shoulder. When she didn’t flinch away, he very slowly pulled her toward him. She didn’t unfold her arms, but she leaned in, accepting the embrace for a moment. She sighed into his shoulder and then leaned back. She looked at him, finally, noticing the flowers in his hand. “Those are for me, aren’t they?” She asked.

“They are.”

“I don’t have a vase…” Betty frowned and walked the three steps required to get into the kitchenette. She frantically opened and closed shelves until she finally found a simple pitcher to put the flowers in. “Thank you,” she said, finally smiling a little, “That’s very nice of you.”

“It’s my pleasure, really. Mind if I go talk to Ethan?”

“Sure, yeah. I’ll just uh- I’ll make dinner.” Betty turned around and pulled some frozen items out while Jughead made his way to the one closed door in the apartment. The other door was open and revealed a bathroom, which meant that they were sharing a one bedroom apartment. Jughead sighed, where the hell was her village? Her mom and Polly? Cheryl and Archie?

Jughead knocked twice before opening the door. Inside, Ethan was laying backwards on the bed on his back, reading a graphic novel.

“Hey Ethan.” Ethan sit up quickly, but Jughead was dismayed to see that his face mirrored Betty’s when he’d first walked in. “Heard you had a rough day.”

“Yeah. Mom’s been really sad all day. Even in the morning. Then we lost the game and then we came home and mom got a note from the landlord and then she’s been crying ever since. I think maybe if we’d won she would have at least been a little happy today.” Ethan’s shoulders hunched up as he tried to duck his head in. a single tear fell to his knee.

“Oh buddy, this is not your fault okay? Moms and dads just get stressed out, okay?”

“Okay,” he said, his fingers digging into his jeans.

“Come on, I bet we can make her happy by helping with dinner, alright?” Jughead gave Ethan a warm rub on his shoulder, once again channeling his inner-Fred.

Ethan nodded and followed him out. As the evening went on, mother and son perked up. Jughead got Betty going on a political topic and social justice, which had always been a way to distract her from her own life, and Jughead played Ethan in Backgammon until he got good enough to beat Jughead properly.

By the end of the night, Ethan was yawning but happy and Betty was fired up, but her eyes were clear and skin was pink because of her passionate views, not because of tears.

While Jughead cleared the plates, Ethan brushed his teeth and Betty tidied the living room. He had just finished wiping the table when he was assaulted from behind, Ethan’s long, gangly arms spreading around his stomach. Jughead turned so he could hug him back.

“Night, Dad,” Ethan said.

“Night, son,” Jughead responded quietly.

Ethan kissed his mother’s cheek before heading into the bedroom and closing the door. Betty turned to Jughead expectantly, her message clear that it was late and time for him to leave.

“Before I go, can we talk about why you were upset earlier?” Jughead asked quietly as he

He leaned into the wall, watching Betty refold the blanket she’d just folded.

“I don’t want you to think that I can’t take care of him.”

“I don’t think that.”

Betty’s lip quivered and she stilled it with a bite.

“We’re being evicted.” She said quietly, standing up taller. “We have until the end of June, three weeks. I’ll find another place. We’ll be fine.” Betty hurried to assure him after she confessed.

“That’s perfect. It just so happens. I’ve got a place for you.”

“With Fred Andrews?” Betty asked, confused and doubtful.

“No, I bought a house.”

Betty laughed until she realized he was serious. “A house? You’ve only been here for three days, how in the world did you buy a house?”

“Well, there’s some paperwork that needs to be done next week, but I put a deposit down today. It just seemed right. I can’t live in a four bedroom house by myself. Why don’t you move in with me?”

“Move in...with you?”

“Yeah. I mean,” Jughead pulled a hand through his hair, a nervous tick that he hadn’t done in years. Betty’s eyes followed the movements. “There’s four bedrooms so nobody has to share. I mean, don’t you think it’s time that Ethan has his own room? He’s nearly ten…”

Betty’s eyes flashed, shit. “I know how old my son is.” Then her eyes softened, “but, you have a point. We can pay rent. Not much, but I’d rather not have to…”

“Yeah, of course you’re not going to pay rent. What were you going to say, rather not what?”

Betty shook her head in dismissal, “it’s just that I had another job a while back. It paid the bills really well, but...I just don’t want to go back unless I have to.”

Jughead knitted his eyebrows. He’d leave that alone for now, he’d take the victory he was given. “Okay...anyway. We should be able to move in by the end of next week. I’ll let you know, okay?”

“Okay.” Jughead nodded once and turned to walk to the door. “Wait. Can you stay for a little while? I just..I have some questions. About my life from before.”

“Yeah, I can stay.” Jughead tries not to respond too quickly or too much excitement.

“Can you tell me…” Betty shrugs her shoulders, an endearing little thing she does before she talks about ‘them’ and he sucks in a breath before she can go on.

“About us?”

Betty smiles but its accompanied by wary, knitted eyebrows “Weird. How did you know?”

“I just did.” Jughead smiles and shakes his head. “You’re not that different, you know, than you were before.”

“That’s not what I hear.”

“That’s because nobody else knew you like I did. Before, you had to put on a mask for everyone else. For me, though, you were always...you. The real you.”

Betty bit her lip. “Polly and Mom have told me before, but I want your version. Can you tell me about what happened? The accident that made me lose my memories?”

Jughead nodded his head. “Yeah, I can tell you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I know there are a ton of excuses out there about why people don't update...mine's legit. My mother in law and sister in law were killed in a car accident four days ago. I've known my sil since she was four years old and she was only 19...we're absolutely distraught and devastated.
> 
> This chapter was already written, but just needed a quick look through before I posted. You guys, don't drive in dicey conditions. Watch out for 18 wheelers. Love each other now. I wish I could hug Sophie one more time.


	6. Flashback Friday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jughead remembers beautiful and awful things.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a shorter chapter, but the next one is turning out to be quite long so stay tuned (hit subscribe so you'll know when I post a new chapter).

“Ronnie and I went with you to get the abortion.” Jughead began. “We went to Greendale and it was hard for both of us. We spent the week before talking, planning, deciding and then crying. We knew it was the best thing to do for our futures, but it was hard to shake the idea that it was our baby in there. Something we made together…” Jughead’s voice trailed off before he cleared his throat and went on.

“The morning we went you were so sure. You were determined. It was actually a little scary. But then you came out and you were different. That was almost a month before graduation. You didn't talk in the car and you didn't want me around. I came around a lot, but your mom always shooed me away. You were studying or you were sick or napping or in the shower, there was always some kind of excuse. I wasn’t sure if it was even that you didn’t want to see me or if she was keeping me from you. 

So, one day I climbed into your window, I couldn't wait any longer to see you. It was late maybe 2 in the morning, and you were laying in bed but you weren’t asleep. You were just...laying there. Staring up at the ceiling. You didn't even move when I whispered your name or when I touched your shoulder. I pulled the covers up and got into bed with you. You were just skin and bone and burning up. I remember thinking that maybe you really had been sick. Now...I guess maybe it was just morning sickness.”

“You leaned into me and I held you all night. You admitted that you felt guilty that you thought I must hate you. I told you how wrong you were. That I could never hate you. That I loved you more than l life. That -that I always would.”

The next morning I came down to breakfast with you. You refused to let go of my hand, so I didn't have a choice. Your parents were less than pleased, but were happy to see you out of bed so they just dealt with it. 

The next day I brought you to the river. It was April and Fox Forest was beautiful. I told you I loved you and that I loved our future children. That I even loved the little guy we had to give up - it just wasn't his time yet. Our kids deserved the best we could give and we weren't there yet, but we would get there. I knelt down on both knees and I kissed your hands and stomach and I asked you to be my wife. My life partner. My other half and you...you bit the side of your lip to keep from crying, but my face was already tear-stained. I think that was my favorite kiss we ever shared.” 

Jughead smiled as he gazed over Betty’s head. He didn’t look directly at her, but he could see the color in her face change in his peripheral vision from her normal creamy-pink complexion to crimson.

“The morning before graduation, we eloped. We were both eighteen so we didn't need anything but a marriage certificate, a judge and a witness. We exchanged rings too, simple silver bands. That's what tipped your parents off. We didn’t tell anyone...only Veronica.”

“Veronica?” Betty interrupted, “The girl from the reunion?”

“Yeah. She was your...we were all friends.” Jughead stumbled over his words, what was the protocol when talking to an amnesiac about her past? 

“That night. The night of the accident. Your parents wouldn't let me sleep in the house with you, so I was at Archie’s. The closest I could be to you. We had plans to move in together for college, but for the summer we would have to play by their rules. Anyway, I guess your parents figured it out. It was around ten at night and I had dropped you off at your door. I wasn't even at the Andrews’ front steps when I heard the yelling. I ran back, but I just listened.” Jugheads nostalgic smirk turned sour as he remembered “You never liked my white knight routine so I just stayed put, just in case you called for me. It wasn't until I heard your father really lay into you that I tried the door. It was locked, of course. And then I heard your mom scream and these awful thudding sounds.” Jugheads face paled and he let out a breath to stem the nausea. “That's when I broke the door down. You were laying there Betts, your eyes were open and your head was bleeding and I…fuck, baby, I thought I lost you.” 

Jughead took a break. He smoothed his palms down his pant legs and wiped his eyes with his flannel. Betty didn't correct his ‘Betts’ let alone his ‘baby’ endearments.

“Your mom called an ambulance. They wouldn't let me go with you. When I got to the hospital they told me you'd already been transferred to Greendale. When I got there, you'd been moved to an undisclosed location.  I told them we were married. There was a paperwork hell. Seemingly endless shit and at the end of it all they had somehow lost the most pertinent information of all - your transfer paperwork. Not a single doctor, nurse or receptionist could recall where you'd gone.

I spent the whole summer looking for you. Veronica did too. Archie was ready to move on with his life. He had a football scholarship. It's what broke them up. 

I went to every hospital and rehabilitation center in a two hundred mile radius. Your parents moved and left no forwarding address. It was like you just disappeared. At the end of the summer it was Ronnie who convinced me to go on to Columbia. She told me she'd help me keep looking, that we wouldn't give up...but after a few years went by and nobody had heard anything. I graduated. Got a job in Columbus, which was where Jellyb-my little sister lives. My dad had moved up there too by then. Moved the whole Southside crew there after all the shit went down in highschool. I focused on my family, kind of putting us back together and on my writing. Every once in a while I'd get some Intel on Polly, but she doesn't ever come to Riverdale so...and then here. I thought I could rely on Archie...I never thought he'd be the one to get in the way. I should have come back. I should have kept looking…” Jughead let his words trail off as he continued to berate himself internally. 

The silence stretched and she startled him when she finally spoke. “That’s not what they said. That’s not how my parents portrayed you.” Betty turned her whole body toward him, her eyes bright with vindication. That need for truth and justice that always lit her up. It was impossible not to engage with her when she looked like that. Like a goddess. He imagined her, for a moment, draped in white robes and holding a golden balance. “It was all almost exactly the same story. Well, not the marriage part...that’s just. We’ll get back to that, but my parents. They told me they were just getting home that day. That they heard a yell and when they opened the door,” Betty opened her hands indicating the space in front of her, “I was there…like you said, bleeding, unconscious. They implied it was you, but...it never made sense to me. The timing and the supposed fight we had. And then a few years ago I looked it up. That was when I moved back to Riverdale. To find the truth. I found the incident reports. Yours is just like you said. My dad’s was just like  _ he  _ said. And my mom...my mom’s was closer to what you said, which isn’t what they told me when they would visit.” Betty stood up and paced around the small living-dining-kitchenette. “And we’re...married?”

“Yes, I have the paperwork to prove that.”

“Oh my god. We’re married. I’m married...to you.”

“Yeah, I know. I don’t know why you picked me either.” Jughead joked, but it fell flat when she just continued to stare at him. She took a step back, not in fear, but as if she was trying to get a different perspective on a particularly obscure piece of art. She squinted her eyes and tilted her head.

“Hmm.” She said. Jughead shuffled to his other foot while she inspected him. 

“Do I pass?” 

“You’ll do.” She said. It’s something she would have said with a smile in her eyes once upon a time, but now there was a predatory quality to them that made Jughead’s palms sweat. In nervousness or arousal, he wasn’t sure.

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone for your outpouring of love about my loss earlier this month. I really have been so shaken. I've never experienced a loss like this, but I know now that every time someone sends warm regards or kind thoughts it really does make a difference. 
> 
> As for this chapter, now you know what happened via Jughead's lens. Now to move their relationship forward!


	7. Moving Day and Broken Cups

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jug, Betty and Ethan move in to their new/old home.

Betty stood before the looming home she was raised in with her eyebrow raised and her face tilted. “I’ve driven by this house many times and never looked twice,” she said.

 

Jughead studied her expression wondering if she would draw any conclusions or it would spark a memory from another time.

 

“And now I’m going to live here…” she continued. “Are you sure. I mean you barely know us.”

 

“I do know you though, Be- Beth.”

 

Betty’s face turned sharp for a minute when she glanced at Jughead and then soft when she turned and saw the wondrous expression on her son’s face.

 

“You really don’t know me...not anymore. And I don’t know you either…” Betty murmured quietly enough so she hoped Ethan wouldn’t hear it. “I know we’re legally married and you’re the biological father of my son, but…”

 

“I know. You’re right.” Jughead quickly acquiesced. He would say anything to make sure he could keep her, and his son, in his life this time.

 

Feeling she won the argument, Betty shouldered her son’s space-themed backpack and her own lavender one and grabbed her son’s hand to march up the series of steps to the front door.

 

Inside, they all stopped to put down their items. “Take a look around. I’ll start bringing more of the stuff from outside,” he said.

 

As he turned to leave, he heard Ethan’s soft voice. “How long are we allowed to stay here, Mommy?” Jughead struggled not to butt in into the conversation with ‘as long as you want’ or ‘until your eighteen and even then…” He didn’t catch Betty’s murmured response as the spring on the storm door finally separated him from earshot.

 

Jughead emptied most of the truck himself, and some of the bulkier and less heavy items with Betty’s help. He tried not to dwell on the fact that they worked in near-silence, as if communication was unnecessary because they naturally worked together as a partnership. She moved when he needed her, moved out of the way when he moved a certain away. It was seamless, their bodies' muscle memory taking over. Jughead couldn't help but wonder if their muscle memory would work in other, more private, ways too. 

 

She had left the ratty sleeper sofa outside of the apartment complex and the only item left was an antique sideboard with a hutch on top. The only item of any value in Betty’s apartment and it was awkward, breakable and heavy as fuck. He stood outside of the truck, hands on his hips studying the formidable piece of furniture. A door opened and closed in the distance and he looked over to see Fred emerge from the house next door, cane in hand, but he was freshly shaved and dressed in dark denim and one of his nicer flannels.

 

“Good afternoon, neighbor,” Fred called out as he neared.

 

“Afternoon.”  Jughead answered and turned to shake his friend’s hand. The two men studied the piece of furniture congenially.

 

“It’s going to be a son of a bitch to move.” Fred offered. Jughead smirked at the man’s foul language. It was a different side of Fred reserved for ‘construction worker Fred’ rather than ‘Fred Andrews, resident nice guy.’

 

“What should I do?” Jughead asked - open to any suggestions at this point just to have this process over. “I’m considering letting the break go and letting the whole thing ‘accidentally’ slip into Sweetwater River, but I’m not sure she wouldn’t leave.”

 

“I’ll call Archie,” Fred said, pulling out his phone, “I’d help you myself, but I’m trying to stay away from the hospital these days.”

 

“Fine.” Jughead sighed. He was still pissed at his old friend, but there was enough history there that he figured he owed Archie a chance at explaining his behavior - keeping the news about Betty’s return from him.

 

Twenty minutes later, Archie showed up. He wore a loose tank top and Jughead was embarrassed to note that Archie’s obvious masculinity was somewhat threatening to Jughead. He found himself hoping Betty didn’t come out just then...even if they were both married men, he simply didn’t feel secure in his relationship (if you could even call this arrangement a relationship) with Betty.

 

“Hey man,” Archie said. Two words that he said a lot. "I’m sorry. I’m here to help. I fucked up and I know it."

 

It was a good beginning, but Archie had always known how to be disarming. Somehow he pulled off being cocky and humble at the same time. It was baffling and arose a deep-seated inferiority in Jughead he had forgotten he had.

 

“Hey.” Jughead said. And then he realized that if Archie was to help him, he’d have to actually walk into the house and he’d likely see Ethan and Betty. Jughead bit back his frustration at the thought and got down to business. “So, let’s tip it toward you and then I’ll grab the bottom. You’ll walk backward. Fred, if you can just follow along. Let us know if there’s anything in the way or when we’re coming up on the steps.

 

“Yup,” the older man responded and the men got to work.

 

Inside, Betty met them at the foyer and Betty’s surprised “Archie! I didn’t know you were coming over,” had Jughead’s jealousy and self-defeat raging once again.

 

“If you could just tell us where this goes, Betts. It’s fucking heavy.” He used the nickname he knew she didn’t like purposefully. It was juvenile and petty, but Jughead couldn't bring himself to feel contrite about it yet.

 

“Watch your language please.” She said, her lips pursed in her pissed-yet-ambivalent face and then she pointed toward the dining room, “this way.”

 

When the furniture was settled, Betty turned toward their guests. “Hello, Mr. Andrews. It’s been a long time. I understand you still live next door?” Betty turned toward their older guest.

 

“Sure do. I’m very happy to have you back nextdoor. It’ll be good to see this house full of life again. And please, Betty, it's Fred.”

 

Emotions played plainly on Betty's face. It was clear, at least to Jughead, that she was pulled between correcting Fred and the need to be polite, as well as perplexed by what Fred Andrews was saying “Have me back nextdoor?” Betty’s perplexed expression had Jughead biting his lip and Fred rearing back a bit as he realized his misstep.

 

Archie, of course, had no realization of the giant pile of shit they’d just walked into. “Yeah,” he laughed, “Remember? I told you we used to be neighbors.”

 

“Yes, but...next door neighbors? This is the house that I...” Betty eyes grew larger as she looked around with a new sense of wonder at the house.

 

As Betty’s words dropped off, so did Archie’s smile. He looked first at his father for support, who just shook his head slowly in disappointment and then to Jughead who gave him a sarcastic thumb’s up. “Well done Arch,” he said in his ear as he slapped his shoulder.

 

“I’m going to be sick.” Betty said and she raced outside.

 

Jughead started after her, but Fred held him back. “Let me talk to her,” Fred said and Jughead nodded.

 

After Fred had left too, the two old friends stood awkwardly in the dining room.

 

“I’m glad my dad called,” Archie began. “I wanted to talk to you anyway…”

 

“Yeah, I wanted to hear what you had to say for yourself. Let me just go find Ethan and make sure he’s okay and then we’ll talk.”

 

“Yeah, okay.” Archie crossed his arms and looked down at his sneakers.

 

“Meet me in the kitchen, okay?” Jughead threw over his shoulder as he followed the sound of some inane youtube video upstairs. Ethan had picked Polly’s old room. It had been painted a neutral, but trendy light grey and Jughead had ordered simple bedframes with twin mattresses for both rooms, unsure which he would pick.

 

Ethan was spread out on the sheetless mattress. “Shoes off the bed, son” Jughead grunted in what was probably the most fatherly thing he’d ever said. Ethan looked up angrily for a second, but grudgingly kicked off his shoes on to the floor. “You hungry?”

 

Ethan paused the video and put the device on his belly to look at his father. “Yeah, I could eat.”

 

“Alright, come down in ten okay?”

 

“Okay,” he murmured and then turned over on his stomach and resumed his video.

 

Jughead leaned backward on a kitchen cabinet, arms crossed as he waited for Archie to speak. Instead, Archie mirrored Jughead’s stance. “How the hell did you get her to move in with you so quickly?”

 

Maybe it was the shock of such a quick turn in the conversation and Jughead’s expectations or maybe it was because Jughead immediately felt the need to defend himself against the aggressive way Archie assumed he’d have to trick Betty into living with him, but he answered without thinking.

 

“Well, there’s the fact that we share a child together. That coupled with the fact that she had just been evicted and that we were married...it wasn’t too hard.”

 

Archie straightened, but his arms remained folded. “Married…”

 

“We eloped. A week before the accident.” The cat was out of the bag now, so he might as well throw the cat into Archie's face.

 

Archie’s jaw tightened and shifted as he considered what Jughead was saying. “If I had known...I...wow.”

 

“My turn Archie. How the hell does that make any kind of difference? That doesn’t have anything to do with how you were my only connection to Riverdale left and you know I was relying on you to tell me if there was news about Betty. You’ve hidden this from me for the better part of the last decade, Arch.” Jughead’s hands shifted to fist in his pockets, a physical manifestation of how he was censoring himself from saying more.

 

“Look, when she first got back I was going to tell you. I called you a few times, but you were doing so well and she didn’t have any memory of you so I thought it might be best to see what happened…”

 

“Not your call.” Jughead bit out.

 

“Yeah. You’re right.”

 

“And then...” Jughead led Archie to continue with a shoulder shrug and a head nod.

 

“Huh?”

“You said ‘at first’ which would imply there was an ‘and then’ in this pathetic excuse for an excuse.”

 

“And then...I have this white knight syndrome...and I started to go over to help her out. I had my kids by then and we could do parent things together, you know?”

 

“I wish I had the chance to know Arch… proceed.”

 

“Cheryl was busy rebuilding Blossom enterprises and then it turned out she had an affair. Betty was the only person around and I….”

 

“Are you telling me you had an affair with my wife and that’s your excuse for throwing away our lifelong friendship?”

 

“I didn’t know you were married.” Archie’s face was red with shame.

 

“You’re unbelievable. As if the semantics of it make any difference. You know what she means to me. Especially now with Ethan… Was she...Does she love you?”

 

Arche shook his head furiously, “No no, not at all. I mean it wasn’t even an affair so much as a...a business arrangement.”

 

“A busi- Are you fucking kidding me right now?”

 

“I should go.” Archie gritted his teeth as if he could stop himself from getting more of his foot into his mouth.

 

“No fuck. You’re a poor excuse of a human being, let alone friend.”

 

Archie turned to go and as soon as Jughead heard the door close he grabbed the nearest thing he could find and hurled it at the newly painted wall.

 

He heard a gasp from behind him and turned in time to see the back of Ethan as he disappeared down the hall.

 

“Fuck.” Jughead dragged his hands through his hair.

 

Betty chose that moment to come in, her eyes red-rimmed but her face at peace. It measured Jughead’s mood a fraction. Enough for him to lean back against the cabinet and grip the edge of the counter behind him. To his surprise, Betty didn’t just come in the room and stop. She continued toward him and at the last minute, she opened her arms. Her face collided with the plane of his chest and her arms went around his middle. Her head fit so naturally and easily under his chin and Jughead had a moment of disorientation. It was a different decade in the same house. They were the same people and they were so very different. Jughead wrapped his arms around Betty and held her close. God, she grounded him like nothing else ever could. He knew he should tell her about how Ethan had been witness to his burst of anger. At some point, he’d have to talk to her about why he’d had said burst, but right now the world was right and everything felt so good.

 

“Please stop calling me Betts,” she said. He could feel her hot breath over his pec and nipple. He could hear her sweet voice reverberating thought him. He could feel her warm, soft body pressed against him. But her words were contradictory. He looked down at her in confusion. “Mr. Andrews talked to me about my childhood here. He told me about how you were there for so much of it. How nervous you were around me in middle school. He told me about how you always made time for me….I want you to know how much I appreciate that. The years I can’t remember and now. Nobody has ever been so kind...not as long as my memory reaches anyway, but you need to know that I’m not the same person I was then. I may not ever be.”

 

Betty stepped away and Jughead slid his arms along her body, down her receding arms so that he could at least hold both of her hands in his.

 

“If we’re going to be living together,” she went on, “you have to know that. This is a new...friendship for me. It’s also a new start for me. I don’t like who I’ve been. I mean, I love being Ethan’s mom, but being weak. A victim. Penniless. I want to merge the two. The Beth from the last several years with the Betty everyone here remembers me by. And Betts….it’s just too soon for me to add another part of my past in right now. Maybe one day we’ll get there again.”

 

“So what should I call you then?” Jughead asked. He’d been watching her full mouth and her vibrant green eyes as she spoke, but now his gaze dropped to their joined hands.

 

“Betty should work. It may not be new to anyone else, but it’s new to me.”

 

“Okay, Betty.”

 

Betty smiled and Jughead’s heart nearly stopped at the brilliance of it. She dropped their hands and looked around her, considering the space around her.

 

“What happened to that mug? Betty asked as noted the broken ceramic on the floor. “And where’s Ethan.”

 

“Umm, that was...an accident. I’ll go get him and I’ll come back clean that up...Betty.” It was a start.

  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no timeframe for when I'll be posting, but I will say that I don't tend to let things go unfinished, so it will eventually end. But it could take weeks, months or years. Thanks for your patience and your reviews!


	8. Buwgers and Feshfies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Betty and Jughead talk to terms and conditions of cohabitating

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nope, I didn't get abducted by aliens or just stop writing. I just have to go at my own pace - hooray for fiction writing, which doesn't seem to mind too much. 
> 
> As always, un-beta'ed and only marginally edited because life.

By evening on the first day, Betty stood in the kitchen of her new house. Or his new house. Their new house? Betty rubbed her temples and sighed. She had no idea where she stood with Jughead Jones at this point. Apparently they had been married at some point and he was Ethan’s father and to complicate matters further he had bought a house and moved them in together as if they were some kind of family unit. It would have made Betty feel secure if she wasn’t also a little freaked out by it all. In her experience, limited as it was, men didn’t go around buying houses for people they hadn’t seen in nearly a decade, even if they were they’re baby mamas. What was Jughead playing at? What would he want in return?

 

“I’m heading to bed,” Jughead said behind her and she nearly jumped out of her skin and screamed. “Sorry, sorry. I’m just heading to bed. I, uh, I can sleep downstairs if you’re not comfortable with me upstairs with you and Ethan. I know we just met, and…”

 

“It’s your house,” Betty interrupted. 

 

“It’s our house.” Jughead insisted and Betty pursed her lips. “Look, I can even go spend the night at Fred’s if that makes you more comfortable.”

 

“Don’t be ridiculous. We’re married, aren’t we?”

 

“Yes, legally, we’re married…” 

 

“I hear a ‘but’ coming”

 

“We’re married, but it all happened so fast and you were still recovering from what we thought was your abortion...we never consummated our marriage.”

 

“I see.” Betty put her hand on her hips and a different, predatory look entered her eyes.

 

“Right, so…”

 

“So...you were going to bed. Upstairs?” Betty finished and Jughead felt completely lost in the conversation. 

 

“I’ll just take the other bedroom. You can have the master.” He spoke slowly, cautiously, as if he was testing the waters. 

 

“Great.” Betty shook her head in acquiescence, an ‘its a free country’ kind of gesture. 

 

“Great.” Jughead turned and took the steps two at a time. There were sides of New Betty, as he called her in his head, that he didn’t understand at all and he needed space to think and absorb the changes. 

 

Twenty minutes later he was settled on his double bed, reading with a book light when there was a soft, but distinct knock on the door. 

 

“Yeah?” Jughead called out. 

 

Betty’s head appeared in the doorway. “Is this a good time?” 

 

“Sure.” Jughead put down his book, but the left the dim light of the booklight, but even in the dim light he could see more than he was expecting. Betty came into the room wearing a black satin teddy, fresh red lipstick. He immediately sat up and shrank toward the wall. If Betty noticed his apprehension, she gave no indication. She walked slowly to the end of the bed and crawled toward him, her breasts almost completely on display and mesmerising as she neared him. He recovered quickly, even gracefully. He left his mouth only partly open as he maintained eye contact during the journey. When she was finally up close and her nose was touching his, he inhaled her and closed his eyes. 

 

It was mistake. He was unprepared for the hot kisses that began at his jaw and smoothed down his neck. Her hands made their way into his undershirt and her small hands splayed across his hot ribs did something to him. The part of him that was just about to push her away and demand an explanation got shoved behind the more aggressive sexual side of him. A side that very rarely came out and that only Betty seemed to inspire. 

 

With a shift and a squeal on Betty’s part, their bodies had switched. Jughead spread his long fingers around Betty’s ribs and gave her what she’d given him. Carefully placed, but passionate kisses starting behind her ear and traveling down the length of her neck. He placed torso between Betty’s legs, keeping his erection a safe distance from her soft skin. As his thumbs inched closer to her breasts he felt the first desperate rise of her ribs. 

 

“What are you doing?” Betty moaned, but it was more of a comment of misunderstanding than a refusal. 

 

“I should ask you the same,” he responded as he moved the cup of her teddy on one breast out of his way. “God I missed these,” he said before attacking the underside of her breast with open-mouthed kisses. She hissed as he attended to her skin, but carefully avoided the nipple. 

 

“That’s not what..I mean...you’re so close,” Betty arched into him, desperately seeking his mouth where she wanted it, but he just nipped her. Betty moved the other side of her teddy, desperately revealing her other breast and offering it to him while cupping the sides. “More,” she moaned softly and finally, finally he moved his mouth to the other side and took the nipple into his mouth and tonguing it vigorously. “Oh my god,” she moaned, her voice dropping to tone from deep in her chest. She rubbed her core as much as she could against his stomach as he laved at one nipple and pinched the other and she didn’t even try to resist the build and the rush. “Yes, yes, yes,” she cried until she finally arched her back and soaked his shirt as she came undone. 

She gasped as she laid boneless for a few seconds, feeling both confused and clearheaded, aroused and satisfied. She frowned up at him. Jughead removed his shirt with the wet spot on it and softly dried her still aching vulva. She hissed as he pressed the shirt into her slightly to absorb her fluid, but even as she began to wantonly arch toward him, he pulled away and threw the shirt into the small pile of dirty clothes he began to collect from the day. 

 

“I was, uh,” she sat up and looked up at him. “That was supposed to be for you.” 

 

Jughead finally looked up at her and the disappoint in his eyes made her heart plummet. Suddenly she felt disgusting. Dirty. The guilt in her face enraged Jughead, but he swallowed it down.

 

“Betty, tell me that was about you having some kind of desire for me. Tell me you weren’t trying to pay me for this house in sexual favors.” 

 

Betty remained silent. Worse than silent, she remained still, her head down and her body collapsed in on itself, her shoulders caging her.

 

Jughead sighed and sat next to Betty, head in his hands. When he spoke it was to the ground, but the words rang in Betty’s ears anyway. “Archie told me to today, about your...arrangement.” 

 

Although he wasn’t yelling, she could hear the grit in his words and see the muscles bunched in his jaw. She felt shamed, but as the second passed her hurt turned to anger. 

 

Standing up, she stood in front of him, hands on her silk covered ribs. “Don’t you dare judge me.” I was alone. I don’t have support from family and I didn’t remember any of the people from my old life. Some said they were my friends...I did what I had to do and I’m not going to let you make me feel embarrassed about it.” 

 

Jughead stood up and met her anger with his own growing sense of irritation. “I’m not judging you Betty. Everything that you said...the fact that you had to do that stuff...I’m partly responsible for that. And so is fucking Archie...he WAS supposed to be your friend, you know. Our friend.”

 

“No, don’t put this on Archie. I approached him. I needed money. Ethan was sick - he kept getting these ear infections and at one point he had pneumonia. In the end all the hospital stays and procedures...they were more than I made in a year even with insurance. I went to him. He told me...he told me he was in a loveless marriage. That he missed me. That he just wanted someone to be himself around. It was just. Just once every few months, but I got so good at making him feel happy. I’m not embarrassed. I was good at it. And then after a little while I helped a few other guys feel good. I made enough to cover a few months rent each time, so it was only a few times a year for them.”

 

Jughead’s face had gone from rigid to painfully clenched. His eyes wild. “Are you still doing it?”

“No.” 

 

“Why not?”

 

Betty pursed her lips, unsure if she wanted to share, but also overwhelmed with the need to defend herself.

 

“Because of Ethan.” Jughead’s scowl grew darker and Betty unconsciously took a step back, but lifted her chin up. 

“We saw one of them men, one day, at school. He has a son in Ethan’s class. He was..speaking in innuendo, but Ethan is very -”

 

“Perceptive. I know.” 

 

“He knew we were talking in code and he badgered me about it for hours before I gave up. I don’t want him to live with a stigma. There’s nothing wrong with sex work. It’s just that as a single mom, I have to provide as much stability for him as I can now. Plus, there’s the fact that it was illegal.” Betty took a deep breath and tilted her chin down. The worst was over.

 

“I haven’t done sex work in a few years. It’s one reason things were getting so dire for Ethan and me financially.” Betty looked back up at Jughead, trying to gauge his reaction, but his scowl hadn’t changed. “And then you were here and it’s not illegal with you because we’re married. I can do my part. You’re paying for everything, it's the least I can do…”

 

“Stop. That’s not...that’s not what a marriage is. It’s not just an exchange of goods, or, that’s not what our marriage will be.” Jughead’s scowl shifted. His mouth opened to reveal his heart. “I don’t know who you are anymore. You’ve changed so much, even though you’re still so very much you, and I know this isn’t something you’re familiar with. Me, the house, this...relationship, if you can call it that, it’s all new.” Jughead stopped talking and paced a few steps, hands on hips, clearly still in thought if his furrowed brows said anything. “You have options,” he said finally. 

 

While Betty demeanor had changed to one of confusion while Jughead had spoken, his last three words had her truly perplexed. 

 

“Options?” She repeated slowly. A foreign word and thought. 

 

“Yeah...we don’t have to stay married. You don’t have to feel obligated to me.” 

 

Betty took a step back and her hand went to her heart, “No. No. I’m sorry. I was inappropriate. Don’t kick us out. Just tell me.”

 

Jughead hurried across the room and put his hands gently on her upper arms,“Shit, Betty. No that’s not what I meant. At all. I will take care of you and Ethan. You’re the lo-, you’re family,” Jughead caught himself, but Betty’s emotional state distracted her from his slip up. “Ethan is my son and you’re his mother. Nothing will change that. Whether I’m living her or elsewhere, if we’re married or not, that won’t change.” 

 

Betty chewed on her lip as she soaked in his words, “okay?” she said quietly. 

 

“What do you want? Who do you want to be?” He asked her, dipping his chin a little to catch her eye. 

 

“I want...um. I want to provide a life for Ethan.” 

 

“Yeah, I knew that. What about for you?” Jughead gently pulled her chin up with one finger and moved toward her, the unfamiliarity between them seemingly forgotten as their conversation took on deep and vulnerable tones. 

 

“I don’t know. I guess...I’ll have to think about it.” 

 

“Okay,” he said softly and he squeezed her arms gently and took a slow step backwards. ‘I’ll listen. When you’re ready, but I want you to know upfront what I want here.” Jughead turned around and crawled back on the bed. He sat cross-legged in the middle and patted the spot in front of him in invitation. 

 

Betty hid a shy little smile and blush, that Jughead swallowed down, trying not to mentally put the look in his “old Betty file,” but shifting to what he knew about this Betty.

 

She found her space across from him, in mirror image, except that she apparently had forgotten that she was wearing next to nothing and his peripheral vision caught the sight of her underwear shifted over so that he could see the soft skin of her vulva. He quickly offered her a pillow for her lap and put one on his too. He didn’t want his serious ‘what I want in life’ conversation colored by ‘what I want right now.’

 

“So?” Betty shifted her shoulders up in a question and a lost patience. “Tell me, Jughead. What do you want?” 

 

Jughead shook the image under the pillow away and focused on the bigger picture. “I want, at the very least and if you’re willing, to be partners. I want to share what I have with you when it comes to finances and I want to help you raise our son. I don’t want to miss anymore of his life than I have to. I want you to get to know me and I want to get to know the new you. Eventually, if...if you think that you might want to start at more...involved relationship, we can talk about that. Later.”

 

Betty opened her mouth to speak, but Jughead wanted to add in a few more things that struck him, “There’s more.” she closed her mouth, “I also want...at some point, I want a dog and if you’re up to it. Another baby.”

 

Betty opened her mouth in an ‘o’ of shock. “A baby?”

 

“Maybe...these are things that I want Betty. That’s the dream, you know. These aren’t needs and they’re not compulsory. I just want to be upfront with you.” 

 

“I…” Betty stalled and dragged the word out. She shook her head clear. “Let’s start from the beginning.” 

 

“A partner. That sounds wonderful, only...I can’t add anything to the partnership except sex. That’s what I’m good at, it’s what I know. I don’t make a lot of money, so I’m not adding much there…”

 

“Yeah, about your job. A janitor? I mean do you like that? Do you want it?” 

 

“I don’t mind it...during the school year I get to see Ethan, so it’s not so bad, but it’s also demeaning. Not only does half the town know me as a prostitute, but I’m also a school janitor,” She laughed at herself deprecatingly. 

 

“Let’s get back to that then, career wise we can talk about your options another night, okay?”

 

“Okay.” 

 

“While I have no doubts that you’re great at sex, that’s not what I want from you. At least, not right now.”

 

“Really? Because I’m pretty sure the erection you covered your pillow with a few minutes ago would disagree.” She smirked at him, and he just laughed and shook his head back. 

 

“Of course I’m attracted to you. You’re...you, but for me sex is a part of intimacy. Real intimacy. I have a hand for the simple, baser urge.”

 

“That’s not really the same.” 

 

“It is for me. Trust me, I’ve tried replace what we had with girls I wasn’t in love with. Sometimes just convenient, but it’s worse that jacking off, plus there’s the drama involved. If you want me, Betts, you’ve gotta learn to love me again.” 

 

“Betty.” 

 

Jughead barely stopped himself from rollings his eyes. “Betty,” he corrected.

 

“Fine. I’ll...I’ll clean the house and I’ll look for another job. I can be more involved with Ethan’s life so you can focus on work. I’ll put my two weeks notice in on Monday. I’ll try to be a good partner for you. And, as for Ethan, I mean, he loves you so much already. If you were to disappear now, I don’t know if he could handle it. Since he was three, all he’s asked for for Christmas and birthday was a dad.” She swiped an errant tear at the memory, and Jughead was just as fast, wiping it too so that he held her hand. He pulled both of her hands into his own and held them while he brushed the outside with his thumbs. She let out a little laugh, one still choked in tears, but it was happy all the same. “I’m actually a little jealous. I mean, I’m glad you’re bonding so well, but I don’t know. I feel a little left out.” 

 

“You’re our glue, Betty. Ethan and I would be nowhere without you.” 

 

Betty rolled her eyes, “Flatterer,” but she was smiling. 

 

“We could even it up, you know. Think about the baby thing.” 

 

“Wouldn’t we have to have sex to have a baby...assuming I agree to that, of course.” 

 

“Yes, it would be a preferred method, yes, but I’m also okay if you want to go about it another way. In vitro, adoption, though I’d prefer a baby, but...I’ll take whatever you’ll give me.” 

 

“Maybe,” she said noncommittally. 

 

“I’ll take maybe,” he gave her a soft, half smile and her heart melted a little more. 

 

“You’re really hard not to like.” she said impulsively. 

 

“That’s contrary to popular opinion,” he laughed, “but are you saying you were trying not to like me?”

 

“Well, I was trying to sort of remain neutral. I think I kind of want to be your friend, Jones.” 

 

“Great, friend zoned by my own wife.”

 

“Hey! You friend-zoned me first!”

 

“Touche,” he laughed. 

 

The talked and bantered for another hour after that, eventually she got under the covers while talking to him and Jughead took the other side of the bed so that with pillows they were yin-yang style talking to each other. She told him about Ethan as a baby and that his first word was ‘burger’ followed by ‘french fries’ and about how she cried on his first day of school, but that he gave her lots of hugs every time he saw in the hallway and by the end of the day she was just so proud of him. 

 

Neither of them remember who fell asleep first, but they were awoken by jump on the bed mid morning. “Mom, Dad! You had a sleepover without me! That’s it. I deserve pancakes for this.” He bounced off the bed and yelled behind him, “I’m making coffee for you old people.” 

 

Betty and Jughead were still in their respective places at opposite ends of the bed, but their legs were entwined under the covers. Jughead, still half asleep, “stretched and accidentally pushed his leg directly between Betty’s thighs, his falling into soft wetness. 

 

“Oh!” She sat up quickly. Putting two and two together Jughead jumped out of bed to give her space.

 

“Shit, that was, I’m sorry.” 

 

“Are you really?” She nodded toward his erection. 

 

“That’s not fair..I can’t help it in the morning.” 

 

Betty smiled at him and got out of bed slowly, leaning over with a shimmy to apparently make the bed. “Good morning, partner, see you downstairs.” She straightened and pulled on his robe that hung by the door. “Don’t wait too long to come downstairs, the pancakes and coffee will get cold.” 

 

She left the door open and Jughead moaned and allowed himself just one pull on his painful erection, “temptress.” he murmured under his breath. Not quietly enough, apparently since he heard Betty’s giggle coming from the direction of the stairs. 

 

“Partners,” he yelled down at her and at his crotch. 

 

___

  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm really excited about working through Betty and Jug's relationship without getting overburden by plot like in my first iteration of this fic. I'm experimenting and working on writing technique, so please let me know if there's stuff that spoke to you or not so much. 
> 
> Thanks so much for reading, ya'll!


	9. And a side of green beans

The first time Betty walked past the principal's office, she put her hand on the knob and then quickly walked away. She’d clean the east hall and then get back to it. Might as well give Principal Weatherbee some time to drink his coffee before she approached him.

 

When she was done with the east hall, she doubled back only to find that he was already in a meeting with someone else, so she cleaned the gymnasium, but after that he was out to lunch. She didn’t catch him until a few minutes before her shift ended, when she had just finished cleaning the lounge and he came in to mull over options in the vending machine, as if the choices had changed in the last twenty odd years.

 

“Principal Weatherbee?” She squeaked. He didn’t react at all. His hearing in the last few years had been decreasing at a rapid rate. “Sir?” she said a little louder, but to no avail. It wasn’t until she rested a hand on his shoulder that he finally jumped and turned around.

 

“Ms. Cooper! What are you doing here at this hour?”

 

“Well, my shift doesn’t end for a few more minutes.”

 

“Shift?” His head tilted to the side “Shift…”

 

“Yes, sir. I work here? I’m the janitor?”

 

“You?” Betty sighed, she wasn’t sure if it was better or worse that she obviously would not be missed. “Oh right. You were a former student and now you work here. I remember now. Just get mixed up now again.” He smiled and his eyes cleared.

 

“Well, anyway, I was going to say that I’m considering moving on.”

 

Principal Weatherbee smiled and nodded and Betty waited for a full ten seconds until he finally frowned and then smoke. “Moving on….” he puzzled. “Oh, yes. Moving on. To a different job? Yes, Ms. Cooper I think it's about time for a change. Janitor, you say? No, my girl. I can see that you have big things in your future. Time to branch out, that’s what I always say.”

 

“Wonderful, sir. Thank you for being so understanding. I’d like this to be considered my two weeks notice.”

 

“Two weeks? Hmm. Well, we’ll need someone sooner than that in your new position.”

 

Betty’s forehead wrinkled in confusion, did he realize who she was? The girl who forgot her entire education? Who broke everyone’s hearts by not only not fulfilling everyone’s secret wish that she put Riverdale on the map, according to her own mother, but had also turned out to be a pregnant teenager to boot.  “New Position?” she squeaked.

 

“Yes, I’d like you to be the new assistant principal. We’ve been looking for one and you’ve got what it takes, I should think. You were always a good leader and a good student. Plus, the last one was caught with jingle jangle in his desk and we’re very suddenly in need of one.”

 

“I don’t...I don’t know what to say.”

 

“Well, just say that you’ll start sometime in the next week or so. Of course we’ll need a few days to get everything set up. You know, HR and all that.”

 

“Right, sure.” Betty said by rote. She wasn’t even sure she actually said it at all, except that Weatherbee smiled placatingly and turned back the vending machine.

 

“It’s a snickers kind of day, don’t you think Ms. Cooper?” He pushed the appropriate buttons and bent down to retrieve his treat and then ambled around Betty and back toward the door of the lounge.

 

“Wait,” Betty yelled out and he turned to look at her over his glasses. “I’m not exactly...can I think about it?”

 

“Sure. Come in Wednesday morning with your decision and I’ll have my secretary draw up all the right papers.” Betty nodded and he turned and left.

 

As Betty pulled into the driveway she saw movement out in the back. She walked around the house and watched Jughead and Ethan throwing their ball back and forth. As always, Ethan was talking a mile a minute, this time about the graphic novel series he’d been reading. Jughead could tell he was feigning interest, but it was all the more endearing. It gave Betty a mixed feeling of joy and embarrassed disappointment in herself. She was happy that Ethan could form a relationship now, before it was too late, but he very well could have lived his whole life without ever meeting his father and to some degree that was her fault. Obviously she had known he had a father somewhere. She should have pushed for information harder. She could have looked for him. But she’d been afraid. What if he had been the one to hurt her, like her parents had said? What if he had wanted nothing to do with their son? What if he’d taken him away? There had been so many unknowns that eventually Betty had buried any ideas that she’d had about seeking him out.

 

She was about to disappear, go around to the front of the house to start dinner when suddenly Jughead frowned and reached into his pocket. “One second, buddy, I’ve got to take this.”

 

“Okay, Dad.” Ethan yelled back and Betty smiled at herself. Ethan really did love saying that to his newly found father.

 

Jughead jogged into the shade of the house, a dozen or so feet from where Betty hid on the side of the house and answered the call.

 

“Hello?” Jughead’s professional voice almost made Betty giggle in how different it was from his regular one. “Yes, Mr. Lambert, they’re almost done…” his mouth opened and closed each time the caller interrupted him, “I know it’s less than my usual amount, but I just moved into a new house...I realize that sir. Absolutely. No excuses. I know. Twenty articles this week? I’m not sure if that’s a realistic...yes. I’ll have them done. Thank you, sir.” Jughead hung up and shook his head. “Fuck,” he whispered under his breath before pocketing his phone and rejoining Ethan in the backyard. He never even looked in Betty’s direction. Not for the first time, Betty questioned her ability to continue playing family with him. Yes, he was a dream. He was kind and patient with Ethan, respectful and responsive with her. He could answer questions about her past that were just giant holes, but almost every single thing he said contradicted what her parents had told her about her past. Why would they lie? They were her parents and he was just...her baby daddy? Her husband? It was all just a little too good. He comes in on a white horse to save the day just as she’s being evicted and was about to turn back to tricking to keep her and Ethan afloat again.

 

Betty walked around the house and started fixing dinner while she turned it over in her head. She poked around the fridge, clearly Jughead and Ethan had gone shopping today as the refrigerator was full of all sorts of, mostly unhealthy, food. She briefly considered chicken breast and spinach, but decided on macaroni and cheese and green beans. It was that kind of day.

 

When the boys came in, loud and sweaty, dinner was very nearly ready and her men, no, _the_ man and her son, were ravenous.

 

“Mom! You’re home!” Ethan ran to her and hugged her waist. Not for the first time, she felt that cocktail of pride and sadness as she barely had to bend to kiss his sweaty forehead. When did he get so tall? Oh! Or stinky?

 

“Oh! Ethan, I love you honey, but you’re covered in swe- oh!” Jughead came around the other side and put his arm around her shoulder and pulled her into his sweaty body.

 

“Covered in what now?” he smirked at her and she threw his arm off her shoulder. Ugh. You’re both so gross! Go wash up. Macaroni and Cheese is almost ready.”

 

Jughead immediately sobered and crossed his arms. “Macaroni and Cheese, huh? Was it that kind of day?” Betty startled a little and met his eyes. “Let me guess, green beans on the side?”

 

“That was an old Betty Thing, huh?” She said softly.

 

“It can be a New Betty thing, too,” he responded in equal volume.

 

“Why are we whispering?” Ethan popped his head between them.

 

They prepare dinner together as a family as if they had been a family for the last ten years and not just for the better part of a week

 

“So if you guys know me so well, what should we have for dessert after a dinner of macaroni and cheese and green beans?” Betty asked Ethan cleared their spots.

 

“Vanilla Bean Ice Cream,” Ethan and Jughead responded in unison.

 

Damn you, Jughead, Betty thinks to herself. He is doing a scarily good job of melting her heart, but it only makes her more nervous about their future. He seems to know so much, but Betty can’t shake the feeling that it’s all just too good to be true.

 

Still, he’s been nothing but kind and she knows he needs to get work done, so as soon as dinner put away and Ethan has been read his nightly reading of The Lord of the Rings, Betty turns in. She doesn’t bother to say goodnight to Jughead, but she pauses at her door. Should she leave her door open in case he wanted to pop in and say goodnight. She would like to discuss her job opportunity with him, but she’s suddenly so very nervous about it. Her? Assistant Principal? How in the world would she pull off a job like that? She didn’t know the first thing about education. Betty rolls her eyes at herself. What in the world is wrong with her? She’s supposed to be this strong, independent single mom. It’s what she prides herself on. She may not have much, but she has that...right? Still, it would be nice to bounce ideas off of somebody.

 

Betty scrolls through her contacts. She knows a few of the other moms from Ethan’s class, but not well enough to call and chat. She hasn’t really had the time or money for girl’s nights or any of the other social events the other moms attended. She thought about calling her parents or Polly, but didn’t think she was in quite the right emotional place to contact either of them.

 

Her finger hovered over Archie’s name. She had been there for him through a number of crises, it almost felt like he owed her. Except for the fact that he was paying her and the way those crises were usually resolved was usually a blow job and then an hour of pillow talk. Betty shuddered a little. It’s not like she hated being with him, the thought just really didn’t appeal to her at the moment.

 

Instead of reaching, Betty scoured the internet for an indeterminate amount of time and read as much as she could about her potential job. She noticed that she was woefully underqualified for the position, but that the potential salary was over three times what she would normally make in a year. Plus, there were all sorts of benefits. She could also take the summers off and be with Ethan. Betty daydreamed about it for a little, until she realized that there was no way she would make it through even a week in this job. She may not be into jingle jangle, but surely her absolute void of knowledge or experience in the area would be enough to get her fired.

 

Betty threw her phone away from her on the bed as if it was her anxiety. Her fingers gripped her bedspread as a torrent of racing, deprecating thoughts seeped like acid into her being. Before she knew it, her breathing was faster and her chest was constricting painfully.  Betty cried out for help, but only a wheeze came out. Oh fuck, was she having a heart attack?

 

She stood to try and reach the door, but her legs tangled together and she fell hard on her knees. Giving up on reaching the door, Betty braced herself on her hands and knees and tried to just focus on her breathing. It might have worked, except that every breath had her even more panicked than the one before. She could hear her heart beating through her body and into her hands. No, not her heart. Something else...her vision was going black, but before everything was quiet she saw Jughead burst through the door and run toward her. It wasn’t her heart, but his footsteps. Or maybe they were the same. Maybe his feet made her heart beat. Betty almost smiled at the ridiculous notion before finally losing consciousness.

  


Jughead was deep in thought, nearly done with the last minute work he needed to do to complete his boss when the heavy noise above his head startled him, but when no additional noise came he dismissed it...almost. He finished the sentence he was working on as he tried to rationalize away the twist in his gut. It was furniture settling or a book from Ethan or Betty’s bed falling...but the memory of the sound of Betty falling down the stairs all those years ago replayed and he couldn’t wait any longer.

 

He padded quietly, but quickly up the stairs until he reached Betty’s door. There was no sound coming from inside so he passed it and looked in on Ethan first. The boy lay sprawled over his bed, breathing deeply and clearly out to the world. Jughead huffed in quiet laughter before closing the door and moving back toward Betty’s room.

 

He knocked quietly, but when he heard no answer his concern for her over rode the fact that simply opening her door would be an invasion of her privacy. Propriety, however, fell away when he caught the gleam of blonde hair on the floor.

 

“Betts! Shit, baby,” Jughead fell to his knees. He turned her body over and cleared her hair out of her face. He stilled to watch her chest and felt a chill of adrenaline whip through his arms as he finally saw it rise as she took a breath. He took the rest of her in. There were undried tracks of tears across the blotched skin on her cheeks, her hair was a knotted mess and there were faint streaks of blood in it, but not nearly as much as the fresh red across her palms. “Oh, baby” he sighed. He pulled a pillow off her bed and propped up her head and then went to the adjacent restroom for a wet washcloth, neosporin and gauze. It wasn’t his first rodeo, after all.

 

Jughead saw to her hands first before he wiped her face with the cloth. It was easier to administer first aid to an unconscious person than a distraught one. As expected, Betty roused on the third swipe of the wet cloth across her cheek. She brought her hand to her head and rolled onto her left side in a classic recovery position.

 

“It’s okay, Betts. Just take some breaths. I’m here. I’m here, Betts. It’s okay, baby,” Jughead whispered soft nothings as she slowly came out of the fog of her fainting spell.

 

Betty sniffled and pressed her cheek into his warm hand, “Juggie?” she said, her voice hoarse and tired.

 

Jughead stilled at the sound of the nickname, her nickname for him, but his desire to keep her calm outweighed the his curiosity for the moment. “Yeah, it’s me.”

 

“Hold me,” she said, closing her eyes, but reaching out for him. He didn’t bother moving them to the bed. Instead, he laid down behind her as he grabbed the blanket off the bed and scooped her back further into his front. She hummed once and then fell asleep. Jughead felt intoxicated by the smell and feel of her in his arms. He felt almost dizzy, as if he’d had a morphine drip, and he felt himself falling into unconsciousness soon after.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shorter chapter here, but there's a little plot twist for ya which worked nicely for the end of it. Thanks for reading. You're great!

Jughead’s morning started with a weird twisted feeling in his neck and a soft handful of something in his hand.

 

The neck issue was probably due to sleeping on the floor, which was where he presently was, and the handful was, if he wasn’t mistaken...Jughead squinted through bleary eyes. Yup, definitely Betty’s breast. Over her camisole, but still a clear cupping. His hand had still crept up under the blanket and found it’s mate. Jughead frowned at the offending limb as he tried to carefully pull himself away. Yet Betty’s arm held him tight and her hand cupped his, holding him to her. The more he tried to pull away, the more she wriggled her breast further into his hand’s embrace. The stimulation from the movement awoke something, though not Betty herself, and he could feel her nipple against his thumb calling for attention. He flicked it once, just to make sure it was what he thought it was...innocently, of course, and an answering erection sprung up down low. Jughead hissed at his mutinous body.

 

Five more minutes, the thought to himself, and he gave up trying to pull away and nestled back in as her ‘big spoon’. Betty wiggled her bottom into him, nestling his erection in the crease of her back. Everything in it’s place, he thought. He allowed himself one slow pump against her ass and then mentally told his dick to shut the fuck up so he could just hold the woman he loves.

 

It obeyed, but with his morning wood now gone the urge to pee began to feel all consuming, especially with her ass pushed into his stomach.   

 

He moved quickly this time, one smooth movement of sweeping her up and depositing her gently on the bed. She mumbled, “don’t wanna...school” and then she was silent save her deep breathing. Jughead absolutely loved listening to her sleep-talking. It meant that he was a part of her life that only a handful of people had access to. He smiled contentedly as he pulled the blanket just over her shoulder, how she liked it, and then quickly left the room.

 

Her shift didn’t start until nine though he’d try to convince her to call in sick due to her obvious panic attack the night before, but Ethan needed to be at Boy Scout camp by eight. It was five now, so that gave Jughead another two hours to get a mountain of work done before he needed to wake his family up. His family, Jughead smiled at himself again, biting his lip to try to tamp down the ridiculous feeling of happiness he almost couldn’t contain at the thought.

 

It was what motivated him to chug the rest of the cold coffee next to his computer from the night before, still on the breakfast table, and set to work.

 

By seven, when his alarm went off, he’d had drafts of all of the articles he needed to write this week. He sent them off to his editor and stood up to greet the day.

 

His son was a morning person, but not in a sweet chipper away most morning peeople were. He’d learned this early on in this new adventure of becoming a family, and it was one of the most startling and unexpected things he’d discovered about Ethan. Betty could rise and shine because she had to and God knows Jughead himself was barely human until around ten in the morning on most days. He figured he’d gotten it from Alice, but it didn’t make it any less alarming when he went in to wake Ethan up and instead got the drill sergeant version of his kid.

 

Jughead turned on the soft light by Ethan’s bed first. “It’s morning, Ethan. Time to get up,” he said in what he hoped was a soothing, quiet voice. He was hoping to coax him out of bed, not sound an alarm.

 

And yet, Ethan shot out of bed, “It’s morning already? Okay. I’ll be down in a second.” He threw his sheets off of him and bounced out of bed and over to his dresser. Jughead had barely had time to stand up from the armchair in the room when Ethan turned to him. “Dad! I need privacy! I’ll see you downstairs. And please make me two eggs and a piece of toast.” He turned back around and began pulling clothes out of his dresser.

 

“Sir, yes, sir,” Jughead muttered with a salute and then went to got wake up his sleeping wife.

 

Stepping into her room he saw that she hadn’t shifted at all in the last two hours and Jughead felt immediately guilty at the idea of waking her up. He sat on the side of the bed with the most room and placed his hand on her shoulder and gave a gentle squeeze. He figured if that didn’t wake her up than he’d let her sleep another twenty minutes before trying again.

 

Her eyes eyes drifted open and she groaned a little. “Jughead?” she said, eyes squinted in confusion, “What time is it? How did I..” Betty’s green eyes cleared as she held Jughead’s gaze. “I remember...you came in just as I was…”

 

“You had a panic attack. How are you feeling now?”

 

“Not..not bad. I haven’t had one of those in a few years. Wow, I’m so sorry.”

 

“No. This isn’t on you. I’m the one who is sorry. This is a lot, moving in together and I should be checking in with you more. Is there anything you need to talk about, or…”

 

“Yes. No. I’m not sure.” Betty tried and failed.

 

“So, there is something, but you’re not sure you want to tell me.” Jughead sat a little straighter and took his hand off of Betty’s shoulder, where he’d been soothing her muscles in small circles. His reticence didn’t go unnoticed by Betty.

 

“It’s not that I don’t want to tell you, I just don’t want to put more on your plate.”

 

“Jesus, Betts. We talked about this. Partners, right? That means its our plate.”

 

“Well, you didn’t tell me about your boss asking you to write twenty five articles in one week…”

 

“What? How did you know…” Jughead’s look of incredulity shifted to one of guilt as Betty sat up and arched her brow at him. “Right. Not the point. I didn’t tell you for the same reason. I didn’t want to stress you out. Sorry about that.”

 

“Okay, so who first?” Betty sighed.

 

“I’ll go, since you already know most of it. Yeah. My boss called yesterday. I haven’t been meeting my quota, which has been mostly out of a desire to be around you and Ethan, plus just setting up the house stuff… I’ve been taking on a bit too much, to be honest. Last night I got a lot of work done though. I set up drafts for twenty articles and pitched ideas for the other five, so I’m tired today, but I’ve got this. Now you go.”

 

“Okay...well, I was offered a position at school.”

 

“What? A position? I thought you were interested in pursuing a career.”

 

“This WOULD be a career, Jughead! They want me to be an assistant principal.”

 

Jughead’s mouth opened, but his prepared words didn’t make sense given the new information, so he closed it again.

 

“I know, I know.” Betty went on, misreading Jughead’s silence as concern, “I’m not qualified at all. Apparently they just had to fire someone for doing something illicit, I don’t know, but, I mean. Me!”

 

“No, no, no,” Jughead stopped her, “I’m speechless in a good way. You would be great at that! You’re organized, personable, caring…”

 

“I’m an uneducated, amnesiac, once prostitute, single mom…”

 

“Not a single mom.”

 

“Fine, one for Jughead,” Betty rolled her eyes.

 

“You’re also motivated and honest. You can do this job, Betty.”

 

“Really, though?” Betty pinched her mouth and gave Jughead a skeptical look.

 

Jughead lowered his face to hers and took her gently by the shoulders. “Really,” he said softly, but seriously.

 

“Yeah, Mom, you’ll be the boss!” Ethan called from the hallway. “You two better get moving if we’re going to be on time to camp and work today,” he said and then turned and jogged down the stairs.

 

“I think he thinks he’s the boss,” Betty rolled her eyes.

 

“I’m not entirely sure he’d be wrong about that,” Jughead said as he stood up and offered her his hand to stand up. She accepted and as her body moved swiftly towards his, he acted on motor memory and pulled her into his arms. As soon as he realized he was doing it, his body went stiff, but Betty didn’t pull away. She tucked her head under his chin and wrapped her arms around his waist and squeezed so carelessly and quickly that Jughead was left stunned and not entirely sure what decade he was in as he watched her pull her hair into her signature ponytail as she walked out of the door of her bedroom.

______________

  
  


“Have a good day at camp, honey,” Betty leans down and kisses her son the top of his head, who is busy on his second bowl of cereal and just hums back at her. “Thanks for this morning, Jughead,” she says turning to the man standing next to the coffee maker. She walks toward him, empty coffee cup in hand and Jughead is pretty sure she’s either getting a refill to go or putting her cup away, but she leans against him and uses the lapels of his dark grey robe to pull herself and give him a soft kiss on his jaw before placing her mug in the sink and heading out the front door.

 

Jughead watched her go until Ethan cleared his throat behind him and Jughead turned around. “I think Mom likes you, Dad.” 

 

“Well, sure she does.” Jughead turned to the dishes.

 

“No, I mean she likes you, likes you.” 

 

Jughead makes a show of pulling out his phone, “Well look at that, we’re going to be late, kid. Go grab your shoes and backpack. Today’s a swimming day. Did you pack your swimsuit.”

 

Thankfully, his naive son bought the distraction and ran upstairs to grab the missing items. 

 

They were on their way out, Jughead’s keys in hand, when the doorbell rang. Jughead frowned and looked at Ethan putting on his backpack, “you expecting company?”

 

“Me? No.” He said, not quite catching Jughead’s playful tone.

 

Whomever was at the door rapped loudly rather than ring than the doorbell again. Jughead started walking toward the door when he heard the unmistakable sound of a key inserting into a lock and said lock turning. 

 

An older, slender woman entered dressed in black straight leg slacks and floral, but tasteful crop. Ethan came around Jughead and recognized the woman right away, as had Jughead. “Grandma!” Ethan shouted and ran toward the woman. 

**Author's Note:**

> I'm want to be a kick ass writer one day. I love every sort of comment, including constructive criticism!! Thank you so much for reading!


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